


sold out ▸ l.s

by Anaemicc



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry Styles, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anxiety, Director Louis, Dorian Grey - Freeform, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Smut, Gigi is a bitch- sorry not sorry, Girl Power, Harry as actor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Louis as director, Louis is a bloody sweetheart, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Recovery, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Trust Issues, Zayn Malik & Harry Styles Friendship, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, mention of diseases, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaemicc/pseuds/Anaemicc
Summary: Harry Styles, the star of London's Jermyn Street Theatre. The main part as Dorian Grey now his to do with what he knows best; to act, but there's not a single script in the world that can teach you how to be someone else when you can't even stand to be yourself.~Louis Tomlinson, a rising star within the theatrical world, gets a call from the highly respected Jeffrey Azof, and within a few minutes, he's thrown into the world behind the successful cast of Jermyn Street Theatre.OR an AU where Harry’s a struggling actor, trying to cope with his mental health and Louis is the new assistant director at Jermyn Street Theatre who has fought himself out of a life that was bound to kill him. His biggest goal is now to be the best version of himself, that’s when he meets Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, lovelies.  
> This is my first Larry fiction ever, and my first fiction published to archive.  
> So I'm quite nervous. 
> 
> Some notes:  
> My native language isn't English and therefore my writing isn't exactly perfect. But I'm learning by each word written.  
> The story is also available on Wattpad, which I'm much more used to use. My username on there is Anaemicc.  
> Follow me on twitter for updates on Sold out; @ hazzakills1

 

 **Jermyn Street Theatre** presents  
 _The Picture of Dorian Grey_

[H.S]   
actor ~ Dorian Gray

[L.T]   
assistant director

[D.G]   
The Play ~ Oscar Wilde

[C.R]   
actor ~ Sibyl Vane

[Z.M]   
actor ~ Lord Henry Wotton

[L.P] 

recordist 

[N.H]  
actor ~ Basil Hallward

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter one.**

_"The world is a stage and the play is badly cast."_  ― Oscar Wilde

 

_154 days until the premiere._

**[15:06 p.m. Jermyn Street Theatre auditorium]**

 

“Action!” Jeff called out from the middle of the auditorium. His face turned forward, a crease on his forehead. The lights went dim as a spotlight hit the the stage. A frame, leaned on the back of a chair with a photograph pinned in the middle, across it a hand stroked a paintbrush. To the left stood a frozen figure on a pedestal, straight posture, his hair in curly waves and dressed in a black waistcoat over an oversized cotton shirt. An excessive jawn left his lips and the painter rose.

 _“Bored by me already, Mr Gray?”_ He left the portrait and helped the young man down without getting a single sign of gratitude.

 _“Basil, it’s not you that bores me, it’s only you when you’re painting. You’re awfully quiet…-”_ , he couldn’t finish the line, the words refused to come to him no matter how hard he tried to remember. His mind was a blank. He did his best to stay in character but within a second his whole face turned hot, his fists clenched together tightly. He dared not look towards Jeff, so he kept his eyes steady on the floor.

“Man, are you alright?” the blonde whispered, seeking his colleague's eye, casting a quick but not unnoticed look towards the director who was about to rise from his chair.

“I’m fine, Niall,” the brunette growled, “forgetting your lines isn’t a sign of cerebral haemorrhage or anything. I’m just tired.”

“Jez, sorry for checking in, mate,” The blonde rolled his eyes, he knew Harry had been struggling for a while but he couldn’t help himself. He took a step back, leaning back into his own posture, leaving Basil Hallwood for now, awaiting further instructions.

“Harry, care to tell me what’s going on?” his voice sour. Harry rose his face, his eyes red from fatigue as they met with his bosses alert ones.

“I’m sorry, Jeffrey,” Niall hid a snort when Harry pronounced his full name and got a sneer back from parts of the cast but Harry ignored it, “I didn’t get much sleep last night and-”

“Do you know your lines or not, Harry?” Jeff cut him off,  Harry didn’t even flinch.

He took a deep breath and pushed a curl back in its place, “I thought I did,-”

“I didn’t ask you what you thought or not, I asked you, do you know your lines or not? Otherwise, we’re wasting time rehearsing a scene where half of the cast can’t even speak,” He raised a brow towards Harry as if to ask him if he agreed, and he got a closed-bitten nod in response, “good!” he clapped his hands together and walked off the stage.

“Zayn?” he called as he walked back up to his seat.

“Aye,” a voice whooped from the front row where the rest of the cast were seated.

“Are you up-to-date with scene three? It’s Basil and Harold in Basil’s studio,” Jeff sat down, looked to Zayn with the look of _don’t-you-dare-also-let-me-down_ written over his face.

“Certainly,” Zayn answered and Harry’s jaw clenched. He watched as Zayn grabbed his script and riffled through the pages until he found the right scene, felt a thick knot form in his chest the more he stared at him doing his job so perfectly. It wouldn’t surprise him if he got every single line right on the first try, and it drove Harry crazy.

“Alright, Niall, do you feel comfortable with jumping ahead?” Jeff rose his head from his notes and looked down at them. Niall gave him a thumbs up and grimaced against Zayn, who rose from his seat with a light skip. Harry knew he was supposed to get off the stage to give them room for the scene but he couldn't find the strength to move. The way Jeff had ended the conversation nagging in his stomach.

He twitched when Zayn laid a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Haz, it’s okay,” he tried to give him a faint smile, “go read up on your lines and we’ll try again later. Sounds good?”

Harry gave him a blank stare, cursing him in his mind, at the same time trying to tell himself Zayn only meant well. But why did he have to treat him like a subordinate in front of everyone they work with? Harry would never do that to him, never. Maybe he would bring it up later when they were home if he had the energy.

“Sounds good,” he said and grabbed the cane that rested against the pedestal, hugging it hard in his hand as he walked off the stage to his seat on the second row. Far away from the rest of the cast, he sank down in the chair, grabbed the script and opened the first page. The lines overlined in pink screaming at him in the dark, _why can’t you remember us? We’re just words. You’ve done this a thousand times before._ After reading half the page he needed to start over, and after reading the whole page it still hadn’t stuck.

 _“Dorian Grey, is that his name?”_ Zayn's voice echoed in the auditorium and Harry thought the urge of throwing the script across the room. That would’ve been a sight, everybody would've loved it. The hopeless main character finally losing it completely, throwing it all away in a single second across the stage where he once shone brighter than everybody else in the room.

 _“Yes, I did not wish to tell it to you,”_ Niall answered. Harry glanced over at Jeff whose concentration was completely turned at the stage, remembered the conversation they’d days ago and the knot immediately made itself remindful. He pushed the thoughts away and kept reading the same words over and over until the scene down on stage was finally over and Jeff called for a short break.

“Harry, a word?” Jeff commanded as he passed behind him and even how badly he wished he could say no, he closed the script and put it back in his bag and got up. Jeff stopped right outside the entrance door, made sure there was no one sitting in the ticket office before turning to Harry.

“Okay, tell me, what’s the excuse this time?” His eyes felt like claws inside Harry’s chest, scratching around after an answer Harry wouldn’t give him.

“I promised to read up on the lines yesterday and I did. There’s no excuse, Jeffrey. I don’t know why I can’t function up on stage, I’m just as lost as you are,” as he spoke his fingers went up in his hair, picking on the short curls as if they held the answers his so desperately needed.

“I hear you and I really want to believe you, but two times is one time to much and this can’t keep happening if we want to get anywhere with this play,” he paused to examine Harry carefully, his pale skin, those red eyes and the dark circles that witnessed of many sleepless nights, “did you drink last night”?

Harry’s head shot back at the question, “What? No-, or, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Jeff raised a brow, “Perhaps nothing? Perhaps everything? What do I know, Harry? All I know is that you got to get your shit together if you want to keep your role as Dorian. I know at least two other people inside of there,” he pointed towards the door, “that would gladly take your place, and those two are both hard working and has shown me very impressive work these past weeks,”

“If you think threatening me to give my job to Zayn will work as a bait to get me to perform better…, then you don’t know me at all,” Harry said with a simper on his lips.

“I’m not threatening you, I’ve simply run out of ways to motivate you. I need you in there, I need you to be the actor I know you can be. Do you really think I would’ve given you the part of Dorian Grey if I didn’t believe in you?”

Harry shrugged but didn’t answer.

“I wouldn’t,” Jeff gave him a sincere smile but Harry looked away, “I know you’re perfect for this part, but I can’t keep believing in you if you don’t believe in yourself,”

“What you’re actually saying is that if I don’t get my acting together, no matter how much you _believe_ in me, you’ll give my part to Zayn and I’ll be left with a supporting role if that.”

“That’s what you’re hearing, not what I’m saying. I won’t throw you under the wagon, if you do the same for me,” by the look on Harry's face Jeff knew he had just made everything so much worse, “I’ve got a little secret if you would like to hear?”

Harry gave out a snort and looked up to the ceiling, “Sure.”

“Since the last production almost took all of our sanity away, I’ve decided to take on an assistant director. Someone who will help me have two eyes on two fronts, and it can be good with some new blood around here. Don’t you think?

“I guess,” Harry answered. New blood, new cast, new director, new everything, and then maybe he could act again.

“He’s a friend of Liam's from college,” Harry frowned at that, was it really new blood if the person already knew somebody on the inside? “he’s supposed to be a rising star,” Jeff continued, and Harry's frown stayed in its place. A rising star was the last thing he needed in his life right now, it was more than enough living with someone who would secretly fight with him over the spotlight. To get a new director also fighting for recognition would surely be nothing else but stressful, but maybe the distraction of someone new working in the production would buy him some time to keep his part as Dorian Gray.

“Have you met him?” Harry asked, not sure why they were still out here talking, maybe Jeffrey felt remorse and wanted to buy him back with inclosing him with something secret. Making him feel special still after threatening to give his part to Harry’s friend.

“Yes, last week. He seems good,”

“Good?” Harry argued.

“Yes, good,” Jeff shot back, “he was polite, talked about theatre as if it was one of the worlds seven wonders, and he dressed nicely,” at that Harry laughed shortly, as if Jeff would ever care about what someone was wearing. It was obvious he only addressed it to make Harry more interested, “Last year he went to see our production of Romeo and Juliet. He said he loved what we’d done to it, the rawness and the wickedness,”

“And the gayness?”

“Ah, yes, he loved the gayness too,” Jeffrey smirked and Harry couldn’t help but give out a faint smile as well.

“Does this man have a name?” Harry didn’t even know why he asked, but something about the way Jeffrey talked about this new assistant director had made him curious.

“Louis!” Jeffrey said, “I think we’ve taken more than five minutes,” he took a step towards the door and Harry followed close behind. The others looked up at them curiously as they entered and Harry sighed.

“Alright, from the top boys, and Camille, I want you to prepare for your scene next!” Jeffrey called out and at once there were movements down on stage, “was there anything else, Harry?” He asked when Harry lingered behind him.

“Oh, yeah, just that I think this assistant director idea might actually be good,”

“I’m glad you think so, but remember not to tell the others, I would like to do that myself.”

“My lips are sealed. For how long though? We’re supposed to take a beer after work, and you know,” he shrugged.

Jeff rolled his eyes but laughed, “I’ll tell them at the end of the day.”

“And when does this Louis have his first day?” Harry asked, stepping down a few steps towards his seat.

“He’ll be here first thing tomorrow, ready to take in all of your starry lustre.” and what had felt like a minute of actual excitement immediately turned into another thick knot inside Harry’s already overfilled chest, from tomorrow on there wouldn’t only be Jeffrey he needed to impress but also this new stranger that didn’t know a single thing about him. A stranger that could judge him from the first second, and at once he regretted everything he had said to Jeffrey. He wasn’t ready for a stranger to intrude in his most sacred place, well dressed or not. This was _his_ arena, and it didn’t matter if he hated it at times and all the people in it, it was still his and he would keep it that way.


	2. Chapter 2

_153 days until the premiere._

**[09.14 a.m., Jermyn Street Theatre kitchen]**

Harry emptied the coffee pot, and with shaking hands he moved the cup to his mouth, only to flinch when the coffee stung the tip of his tongue.

"You're not supposed to drink it like it's water, you know," a soft voice hinted from the kitchen inlet. Harry put on a smile and turned around, to see Camille leaning with her elbow against the door frame, her hair tied back in a tight knot revealing a fading hickey at the back of her neck. Harry blinked and swallowed another sip.

"What's water? I've only ever heard of coffee," Harry leaned back against the sink watching as Camille opened the fridge. She grabbed two bottles of water and put one down between magazines and dirty plates on the kitchen table.

"That's water," she pointed at the bottle, "and I want you to try it. It's good for you, dehydration and shit," when Harry didn't make an attempt to answer, she continued, "why didn't you come out last night? I thought we all agreed on meeting up."

Harry tapped his finger against the cup, debated on whether he would make up an excuse or not, but ended up with a shrug. Camille unscrewed the cork of her bottle,"Was it because of what happened yesterday at rehearsals?"

Harry cleared his throat and straightened up, his hand gripping harder around the cup, "Wasn't you the one who wanted me to cut back on the drinking? And now when I stayed home for one damned night you've got the nerve to question it? Classy Camille, really."

A cough left Camille, a sip of water ran out the side of her mouth and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, looking at Harry with widened eyes.

"I was concerned, Harry, that's why I asked," she screwed on the cork, hesitated and then walked away, but turned again, "just so you know, people around here are growing sick of your bitchy attitude when all we've ever done is trying to show you support. If you don't want to let  _me_  in, despite the fact you've done coke from my pussy, that's fine, but don't expect the others to tiptoe around you just because you're too proud to tell them what's going on."

Harry looked after her for a long time, holding onto the coffee cup as if it was the only thing keeping him from sinking down to the floor, screaming out in frustration. He knew she was right. He knew he was a nightmare to work with, and that they all questioned Jeffreys decision the give  _him_ the main character after his breakdown in the aftermath of their last production. They had doubted him from the very beginning and he had done nothing to prove them wrong if anything he had given them more reasons not to believe in him.

Even Zayn couldn't conceal his scepticism any more, he could sense it in the way he glanced at him at home when he thought Harry couldn't see. He could sense it in the way he offered to rehearse lines with him after dinner sitting in the living room on opposite sides of the sofa. He could sense it during every night out, where Zayn's eyes were like hawks following his every move to make sure he would be there when the catastrophe hit. Not to be ready to catch him, no, he was there ready to witness the fall and then pick up the pieces Harry could no longer carry. The part of Dorian Gray, the spotlight, his face on the play-card. Zayn had grown tired of standing in some lunatics shadow and Harry had grown sick of pretending he couldn't see it.

He cast a glimpse on the clock hanging above the inlet, groaned and lowered the last of his coffee. Camille's voice still lingering in his mind as he walked out of the kitchen. He did treat her unfair, but he couldn't help the boiling annoyance that grew inside of him every time she tried to crawl under his skin. He didn't want her concern. He wasn't sure he wanted anything from her anymore.

Before joining the cast in the auditorium he stretched the tensed muscles in his neck, breathed into his hands and closed his eyes. You can do it, it's only for a couple hours, then you can go home and ignore the whole damn world, he soothed himself and stepped inside.

A dozen of eyes turned as the side door opened, and Harry froze in the middle of a step. He was interrupting something, and then his eyes landed on the man sitting at the side of the stage, wearing a dark green sweatshirt with a white striped collar and in his hands laid an outworn manuscript. He was certain he hadn't seen him here before. Then he remembered, the assistant director. Liam's friend, Lu- something.

The newcomer rested his eyes on Harry for a second before waving him closer, "Come to join us, mate. I've just started," and then went back to speak in a low tone with the cast sitting in a circle around him. Harry stepped closer, sat down, catching another glance from the new director. Harry sensed the nerves twitching in his stomach.

"So, since everyone's here I might as well introduce myself again. My name's Louis," he nodded towards Harry, "Tomlinson, and as you all know I'm here because Jeffrey was polite to ask me to come work for him and this wonderful crew," he made a gesture with his free hand around the room, "and since I've always looked up to his work, I couldn't do anything but accept."

Harry paid attention to the strong north-England accent making its way through when Louis spoke, but he couldn't place where from exactly, as if it would matter he thought bitterly but kept his eyes steady on him as he continued.

"I'm very excited to be here and my hope is that I'll be able to bring some new and intriguing ideas to the table. Hopefully, you won't hate all of them," he chuckled.

"Don't worry, Lou, they'll love all of your ideas!" Liam called from the technician's table.

Louis smiled thankfully, his eyes scrunching together in a way Harry couldn't help but find adorable, "Aw, thank you, pal!" he turned to look at his friend who gave him a wink, "either way, I won't take up any more of your time today. If there's anything on your mind, don't be afraid to ask. Alright, I'm done, get your asses back to work," Louis jumped down the stage and strolled over to Jeffrey, who gave him a wide smile before turning to his cast.

"Harry, Camille, I would like to test out the theatre scene, to set the mood for Dorian and Sibyl's interface. Meanwhile Zayn, Niall and Nick, I want you to rehearse scene six and seven in the blue-room upstairs. The rest of you can stay here and watch. Sounds good?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled a deep breath as he walked across the stage, waiting for Camille to get in position as he chewed on his bottom lip. The failure of yesterday's rehearsal creeping up on him.

On Jeffrey's queue, Liam turned the lights off, leaving two spotlights shining down on the stage. His eyes narrowed on Camille as she sat down on a chair, pretending to work a comb through her hair. When she put it down on the non-existing dressing table he stepped out on the stage with his hands enclosed around an imaginary bouquet of white lilies. Heart beating fast, blood ringing in his ears.

_"May I introduce myself?"_ The practised voice of Dorian Grey gushed and Camille turned on her stool,  _"my name is,..."_

_"Shh!"_ Camille rose and put a finger over his pouting lips,  _"I want to call you, Prince Charming,"_ she smirked and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

_"Prince Charming, why yes of course!"_ Harry shouted in played excitement, Camille's hand travelling from his lips to his shoulder. The ringing in his ears increased as he looked into her big eyes, the knot in his throat repairing in a matter of seconds. Triggering the thoughts he had spent the whole previous night trying to suppress.

_Not now,_  he begged himself.  _Please, not now._ But it was too late, once the feeling got a hold on him he couldn't control it. The flash from the spotlight seemed too bright. The sound of Jeffrey, or was it, Louis, scribbling down notes echoing in his head and the sense of Camille's hand on his skin made his fingers twitch. He needed to get away, he needed air.

"Jeffrey, I-" he stuttered, as he brushed away Camille's hand from his shoulder, "I need to take five,"

"Harry," Jeffrey sighed, "we only just started!"

The twitching in Harry's hands increased, his eyes flashing over the room, "I  _really_ just need to take a five-minute break, goddammit," on the verge of yelling, "let me take five minutes!"

Jeffrey's mouth snapped shut, "fine."

Harry nodded, rushed past Camille and out of the auditorium, leaving everybody silenced in shock. Jeffrey leaned his face into his hands, muttering under his breath. The man next to him still with his eyes turned at the spot where Harry had disappeared, his eyes squinted.

"What the fuck, Jeffrey? I thought you had talked to him," Camille threw her hands up, staring up at her director.

Jeffrey looked up from his hands, shaking his head, "What can I say, Camille? I've tried. But it's not up to me. It's his life, his choice."

"I get it," she spat, storming off the stage to her chair, grabbing her water, "but you have todo  _something_! We can't work like this. We're getting nowhere because of him," she gulped half the bottle, drying her mouth with the back of her hand, "sure, I understand he's been struggling with stuff, but if it affects his work this much maybe he should get a sick-leave. Seek up a doctor, met a psychiatrist, the hell do I know. Everything's better than doing  _nothing_  and destroy the rehearsals for everybody else," she tossed the bottle back in her chair, looking up at Jeffrey.

"I'm sorry," Louis leaned forward in his chair, "but this feels like a conversation a newbie like me need to get a little backstory to engage in," he put his hands together and rose halfway from his seat, "therefore, I'll go out and get a smoke, give you some privacy."

"Louis, there's really no need, isn't it good for you to see exactly what's going on from the start?" Jeffrey asked. Louis gave him a half smile.

"I don't feel right for me listening to something this serious when I haven't even introduced myself properly to the person in question," he stood up and grabbed his jacket, "maybe I'll take part when I've heard what both sides have to say. I'll be back in ten minutes!" he flashed a polite smile and left before Jeffrey had the chance to answer.

**[10:03 a.m., Jermyn Street Theatre backyard]**

Harry leaned back against the wall, the hairs on his arms rising when a light breeze passed by the narrow space between him and the fence. He should've brought his sweater, but he had been in too much of a rush to think about that. He just needed to get out, to breathe.

His heart rate was dropping, and his hands stopped twitching but the thickness in his throat wouldn't give up that easy. He moved his hand over the place where he could feel it suffocate him, put light pressure on it in a hopeless attempt to push it downwards, down into his stomach where it could burn best it wanted, as long as he got free from the stinging pain in his throat. He sank to the ground in defeat, resting his head between his knees with his hands in a tight grip around each other, putting all his focus on his breath, breathing in, breathing out.

"That looks cold," a voice spoke, Harry snapped his head up, "oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he added when he saw the shock in Harry's eyes that soon turned to suspicion.

"Did Jeffrey send you? Tell him I'll come back in, I just need a minute," he said while looking down between his knees.

Louis gave out a chuckled and grabbed something from the pocket of his trousers, "Wow, that didn't take long. One hour to be exact."

Harry lifted his head, his brows knitted, "What?"

"Getting the role as Jeff's page-boy," Louis smirked, putting a cigarette in between his lips, "no, Jeff didn't send me. I came out here to smoke. If that's okay with you?" He tried to catch Harry's eye but they stayed on the ground.

"Ehm,..." Harry stuttered and pressed his lips together, "I would rather be alone, but,..." he spoke low, his eyes darted around the yard, stayed for a second on Louis' face and then down to the ground again.

"Yeah, I totally understand," Louis nodded, still with his eyes only on Harry, "but since this one's already lit, is it okay if I stand here for two more minutes and then I'll be out of your hair?"

Harry let go of his hands, his arms falling to his sides, "Uh, well, sure," he shrugged and rested his head against the wall, and couldn't help but cast a glimpse towards Louis. His lips enclosed around the filter of the cigarette, in his left hand he held his phone, scrolling casually as he exhaled a cloud of white smoke. He avoided looking at Harry, and he wondered if he had made him uncomfortable sitting there half on the ground.

"Your name's Harry, right?" Louis asked while putting out his cigarette, tossing it inside one of the ashtrays.

Harry furrowed, meeting Louis eyes, "Uhm, yes."

"Can I just say one thing, Harry?" He asked, taking a step towards the door.

"Can I stop you?" Harry didn't necessarily mean for it to sound so hostile, but a smirk was hiding in the corner of Louis' lips.

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Then go ahead."

"Forgetting your lines isn't the worst thing that can happen to an actor, I'll try to get Jeffrey to remember that. And if I can help you in any way with whatever, just come to speak with me," he said and made sure to meet Harry's eyes, gave him a quick nod, smiled before opening the door and stepped back inside.

"I-, "Harry's eyes widened in shock, "thanks,..." he whispered as the door closed behind Louis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes a long one!!  
> Just putting it out there that all of these chapters may get edited later on when I've finished the whole story.  
> Right now I just want to get my work out there because it's fun, not because I'm an expert at this (far from, lol)  
> And thank you for my first 3 kudos ever, GREATFUL.

__

_152 days until the premiere._

**[Friday, 9:32 p.m. Three Crowns Pub, Piccadilly]**

Harry opened the tap to the water, put his index finger under the stream, waited until it was cold enough before cleaning his hands. As he bent down towards the sink to splash his face a curl fell into his eye, and he tossed his head backwards catching himself in the mirror on the wall. His eyes slightly glazed, a subtle blush on his cheeks. He pouted his lips, tilting his head backwards, examining his pale neck, inch by inch until he remembered he had promised himself not to do that tonight. No searching for signs of things he knew would throw him off. He needed this night. He needed to get drunk, to spend time with people, to forget the nightmare of a week he and Zayn had just taken a shot on to toss it out the window.

He gave himself a grave look, “You need to stop,” he shook his head to the reflection, “you’re driving yourself insane,” he whispered to make sure no one outside would hear him talk to himself, “you’re not dying, Harry. You’re not fucking dying,” he curled his lip up and laughed bitterly, dried his hands and left the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” Zayn called when he saw him step inside, “I’m on my way to the bar, want anything?”

“Hendrick’s, a 6. I’ll get the next round, yeah?”

“Sure, man. No worries,” he beamed and gave him a tap on the shoulder before walking up to the bar. Harry followed him with his eyes for a moment before strolling over to the booth where they were all seated, nodded at the gang when he arrived and squeezed himself down between Nick and Camille.

“What did Jeff tell you about Alan Campbell? Are we supposed to split the part amongst ourselves or is he going to cast someone from the outside?” Camille sipped on her drink, her eyes steady on Nick but eyed Harry for a short second when he sat down.

“Honestly, I don’t know what that lad is thinking sometimes,” Nick rolled his eyes and put his beer down, “he told me to act as if the part was mine, but he also said there was a possibility he wants to cast someone later on, like, what the fuck? Am I supposed to rehearse two parts and then get one of them taken away from me in the last minute? No thank you, sir.”

“Did you tell him that then, big guy?”

Nick slammed his hand on the table and chuckled, “Finally, look who’s back, drunk witty Harry being a pain in my ass.”

“Oh, you wish I was, don't you?” Harry winked at him and smiled at Zayn when he arrived with his glass of gin.

“God, you two always makes me so uncomfortable,” Camille shook her head and Zayn let out an amused snigger as he took a seat across from them, putting his beer down on the table. He cast a fast glimpse at Niall and Liam who sat turned away from the others, discussing something Harry thought had to do with golf or stage lighting, it was hard to tell.

Harry sipped his gin, his face scrunched up as the alcohol passed his throat,  “Aw, come on, don’t pretend that you’re innocent,”

Camille gave him a light slap on his upper arm, “Hey, I am!” she insisted, then turned to look at Nick, “you’re my friend, you’re supposed to support me in this or is Harry more important?”

A crease appeared on Nick’s forehead as he flashed his eyes between Harry and Camille, “Hm, well, he is very drunk and fun tonight. Also, that shirt makes you look hella gay,”

“Hey, glitter suits me!” Harry called out.

“Did I ever say that it didn’t?” Nick teased him, wiggling his eyebrows up and down as he chewed on his straw. Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile as he hid behind the glass of gin in his left hand. Finally, the demanding echoes in his head had put it to rest for now. As he felt the gin run down his throat and out into his bloodstream he felt more content than he had felt all week. He knew that he deep down was sick and tired of half of the people sitting around him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy feeling like one of them again, to feel normal, to feel like before everything went bad again.

“I’m sorry Camille, but I can’t pretend I don’t live with him,” Zayn joined in, pointing at Harry, “I’ve heard it all, and it’s anything but innocent.”

Both Nick and Harry broke out in a roaring laugh, causing both Liam and Niall to look up from their own conversation across the booth

“Oh my god,” Camille choked on her drink, “why do I even go out on these after works anymore,...?”

“You would probably go insane by staying home alone for a whole night,” Nick said, stroking her over the back of her head, “and because you love us.”

“Don’t stretch it, Nick,” Camille answered, pushing his hand away.

He gave her a kissy face and then turned to Liam, “Since Camille have smudged her dirty fingers all over Harry, sadly,” he pouted, “what’s the deal with the new director?”

“What about him?” Liam said, and in the corner of his eye, Harry could see Zayn’s face toss up at the sound of his voice.

“Is he available? Is he a nice person?”

“That’s not my thing to say,” Liam said, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

Nick’s face lit up, “Are you implying I have a shot? He _is_ gay?”

Before Liam could answer, Zayn’s phone buzzed upon the table. He grabbed it, looked at the screen and let out a sigh before turning his head away from the others to answer it, his eyes flashing back at Liam as he hummed something inaudible to the person on the other end of the phone.

“We’ve been over this so many times. It’s not my job to out people for you, Nick. If you want to know, why don’t you ask him first thing on Monday?” Liam said with earnestness, and Harry put a finger up in the air.

“That reminds me,...have you guys ever heard about Nick’s first words to me?” Everyone turned to him, Nick’s eyes widen in realisation, shaking his head as to beg Harry not to say it, “during my second day of working with him, he came up to me after rehearsals and asked me if I liked cock. Just like that,”

Nick gasped, and put his hand over his chest, “I’ve come a long way since then. I’m so sorry you had to experience _that_ Nick. But, let me tell you, the saddest part about that story is that you do like it, but just not mine apparently.”

Harry sucked on his teeth, “I’m very,...selective.”  

“But still you fuck Camille?” Nicks forehead rose up, his voice shrill and laughs burst out around the table.

“Ehm, I’m, eh, does anyone need another drink?” Harry stuttered, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yes, _please_!” Camille said between clenched teeth and Harry gave her an apologetic smile as if it was his fault Nick expressed love in the meanest ways possible and left the booth. As he walked over to the bar he could sense the slow dizziness that laid itself over his brain, numbing everything that hurt, leaving only the things that could actually make him appreciate life and himself. Like the shirt, he had chosen to wear. He had known it was a bold move and he had regretted wearing it the whole evening until the third beer kicked in, giving him the amount of self-reliance he needed to take of his coat and reveal the sparkling, slightly see-through shirt. Gin and beer always made wonders.

He ordered the drinks, paid and strolled back towards the booth but slowed down once he saw there was a newcomer amongst them. His eyes taking in his messy fringe haircut, slightly shorter on the sides and on his upper body he wore another green shirt, like the one he had worn two days ago, but this time with a vintage Adidas logo printed over the chest. Harry watched as Louis smiled, and as he stood there looking at him he wondered who he really was. There was something soft about him that Harry hadn’t experienced in a person in a very long time, and it baffled him how in just two days the whole cast had embraced him like one of their own.

“Harry, look who joined us!” Liam said as Harry handled Camille her drink. His eyes landing on Louis, he forced a smile and Louis bobbed his head in response.

“Welcome Louis, to our second home. This is where we became a family and probably were we’ll all go down,” Niall said and put a hand on Louis' shoulder. 

“Thank you for inviting me!” Louis smiled at him. 

“Have you been down at the theatre until now? Mate, why?” Niall said with a slight slur, still with his hand on Louis's shoulder.

“Ehrm, well, that’s a bad habit I have,” Louis grimaced, shrugged his shoulders, looking around the table.

“What is?” Harry said, surprising even himself when the words left his lips. Louis looked up, directly into his eyes. Harry couldn’t help but noticing how appealing his face was, with his light blue eyes creating a perfect contrast to his dark hair. His sharp cheekbones, the red thin lips, the lower one slightly plumper and the week-old stubble across his chin and cheeks that hinted at his actual age apart from the rest of his limp features. When he realised he was staring he quickly occupied himself with the beer in his hands.

“I work too much,” Louis admitted, scrunching his nose in the same way he had done during his presentation two days prior. Harry swallowed hard, staring down into his glass. 

“But now you’re here. Do you want a drink?” Niall suggested, almost on his way over to the bar before the question left his mouth.

“No thanks, I’m okay, it’s pretty late.” 

Niall knitted his eyebrows, “Why do I get the feeling you’re here in purpose of work?” 

“Actually,...” Louis admitted and a grunting laugh broke out around him, “Hear me out, lads!” He raised his hands and waited until they had all silenced, “I’ve been thinking about a new idea that I never got the chance to test out at my latest production. But since we’re two directors now, there would be enough time. I want to do character portraits with you! Starting on monday.” 

“What’s a character portrait exactly?” Camille asked, excitement shooting out of her eyes.  

“My idea goes like this, I photograph you all when in character, giving you and me the chance to see different elements off your character and it will also be fun to look back at it in the end of the production!”

Zayn nodded and looked around at his co actors, “Yeah, sounds fun.” 

“I told you they would love your ideas!” Liam laid an arm around Louis' shoulder and pulled him towards his chest.

“Don’t put pressure on them, Liam,” Louis lowered his voice, and cast a glance across the table where to his surprise he found Harry already staring at him.

“I’d love to get photographed by you,” Nick said with a smirk.

Harry turned his head and sneered, “Oh my god, Nick, stop being disgusting.”

“When you stop ruining my will to fucking live,” Nick shot back.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Please, your existence depends on me,” he asserted and Camille gave out a howl as Nick's eyes widened. 

“How I wish that wasn’t true,” he responded in defeat and Harry’s lips turned into a smug grin. 

“Aye, isn’t it time for a smoke?” Zayn said looking around the table and they all, except Harry, agreed. They rose, grabbed their jackets and walked outside, “Louis, aren’t you a smoker?” Zayn asked as Louis took a seat instead of following their lead.

“I had one before I got inside, thanks for asking, though!” Louis smiled and Zayn noded, cast a glimpse at Harry who had his eyes down on the table and walked away.

Harry raised his head to look at Louis. It had been a nice gesture of him not leaving him all alone inside as the others intoxicated their bodies with devils smoke, but there was really no need. Harry took a large gulp of his beer as if it held all the courage he needed to break the silence. Louis moved his head around, taking in the sight of the pub with an almost unnoticeable furrow on his forehead.  

“You don’t want a drink?” Harry said, and Louis turned his head back to the booth.

He smiled, “No, I’m good.”

Harry couldn’t hide the puzzlement on his face, but decided it wasn’t right of him to questioning it, so he only gave out a silent hum.

“Are you feeling better today?” Louis asked, his voice low and soft.

Harry froze for a second, “I’m not sure what you mean,” Louis rose a brow,  “Okay fine, yeah, I’m better today.”

“I’m glad to hear.”

Harry watched as Louis smiled for what must have been the tenth time since he arrived at the Three Crowns, and not once had it looked forced or restrained. That was something Harry found admirable and appalling almost. Seeing someone who appears to be genuinely content made it harder for him not to think of his own incapabilities. 

“How have you liked your first days at the new work then? Harry asked to fill the gaping silence.

Louis eyes lit up, “Good. The cast seems fantastic to work with, and Jeff is a huge inspiration. And it’s fun to work together with Liam!”

“Right, you’re friends from college, right?” Harry fiddled with his pint, stroking his finger over the water droplets that slowly run down the glass.

“Yes, precisely,” Louis answered, his eyes narrowed at Harry’s nervous fiddling.

“Was he more fun back then?” Harry surprised him, gave up his tinkering and took another sip of the beverage.  

Louis gave out a laugh, “Are you saying my lad is boring?”

“Meh, he can be a little bit of a bore, but maybe I’m not the one to talk,” Harry shrugged.  

“How long have you two worked together?”

“This is our third production. First, we did ‘the idiot’ by Fjodor Dostojevskij, and after that, we put up Romeo and Juliet,” Louis watched Harry with close attention, causing a pink blush to appear over his pale cheeks.

“Ah, I see,” Louis nodded, catching the smile that broke out on Harry’s lips, “what?” he asked, flustered.

Harry looked upwards to the ceiling, then down again, “I know you’ve seen it,” he admitted, still smiling.

A smirk broke out on Louis' lips as well, “Of course you do. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.

Harry laughed, “I’m drunk, there’s not much that can make me uncomfortable when drunk,” and before Louis could answer the others returned. Liam walked up beside Louis with everyone standing behind waiting for something after a second Louis realised what and jumped further inside the booth until he sat right next to Harry, whose eyes found his for a split second before looking down at the table again.

The others took their seats and Harry wrinkled his nose, “Ugh, you all stink.”

Zayn chuckled at his comment and blew a lung full of air his way and Harry clenched his fist.

“Don’t. I’ll end you, Malik.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re not gonna get lung cancer just because I breathe on you.”

Harry’s sight grew dim and the blush on his cheeks paled, “Wow,” he said as he gave Zayn a dark look. Zayn inhaled deeply as he bit his lower lip, fighting back a sigh as they stared at each other. When it was obvious to Harry Zayn wouldn’t smooth it over, he looked away, down at his hands that were now tightly hugged together. He brought his left hand to his mouth, biting at the nail of his thumb and the other arm he hugged tightly over his stomach, making him look smaller, his eyes narrowed at the table.

Camille reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Harry shrugged her off, “Yes,” Camille sighed and leant back into her seat.

Harry rose from the booth, he couldn’t stand the feeling of everybody looking at him. Louis must think he was crazy. He needed to get away. Away from them, especially from Zayn. Zayn knew better than that, Harry knew he did. He would’ve expected something like that from Niall or maybe even from Nick, but not from Zayn. Maybe he didn’t care anymore. Maybe he had grown tired of tipping around on his toes for Harry's sake. It sure felt like it.

“Harry, where you going?” Niall asked as Harry walked away from them.

“The bar,” Harry said bluntly and walked off towards the bar. He caught the bartender's attention, suck on his lower lip as his eyes followed the line of taps before him. The bartender rose a questioning brow and Harry shook his head with a sigh, “A Guinness, please.”  

“Can I put a Diet Coke on that order as well?” Someone said as he got up next to Harry whos head snapped to his left. Beside him stood Louis, his eyes fixed on Harry and his surprised expression.  

Harry couldn’t hide the confusion but turned back to the bartender, “Yes, and a Diet Coke, please,” the drinks was placed before them and Harry put the money on the counter, “You can keep the change.”

A smile twitched in the corner of Louis' mouth, and Harry watched as he placed a straw in his glass and gave out a chuckle. 

“What? Is a man not allowed to enjoy things they liked during their childhood?” Louis turned to look at Harry, whose upper lip was now covered in foam from the Guinness in his hands.

“You know straws are really bad for the environment,” Harry said, removing the foam with the back of his hand. But instead of cleaning his hand against his trousers, as any normal intoxicated person would do, he grabbed a napkin from the bar and dried the beer from his hand.

“I figured.” Louis laughed, looking smug as he put the straw in between his lips again.

“Figured what?” Harry’s brows knitted together.  

The smug smile still on his lips, “That shirt really screams ‘environmentalist’.” Louis declared, pointing at Harry’s bold fashion choice

Harry rolled his eyes, “Nick likes it,” he said in defence.

Louis looked down into his drink, his cheeks turning pink, “I get that,” slipped out of him and silence fell between them both. Harry swallowed a sip of beer, looked at Louis who seemed to have stiffened up next to him and to loosen the sudden tension he smiled at him. A smile that wasn’t restrained or forced, no, it was a sincere smile. The pink colour on his cheeks was hard not to find beautiful.

His eyes went over Louis' face, and then he looked back towards the booth, “I think I’m gonna stay here for a while, but you can go back if you want to,”

Louis cleared his throat, “I’m good here,” he said, his stiff face all gone as he plopped down on a barstool, Harry doing the same.

After a short consideration, he turned to look at Louis, “So, what did you think of our Romeo and Juliet?”

“I really liked it,” Louis smiled, sucking on his straw as Harry’s face lit up for a second.

“Yeah?”

Louis nods his head rapidly, “Yeah, I loved how you made Romeo and Juliet into minor characters. Gave me a whole new perspective on the story.”

Harry gave out a snort, “Don’t tell Zayn that. He’s still bitter he got the main part but then the main part went minor.”

“Oh?” Louis said, Harry could hear the underlying question but ignored it. His comment had been unnecessary. There was no need of getting this new person involved.

“Either Way, it was interesting doing something completely new.”

A subtle smirk appeared on Louis' lips, “I loved how you portrayed Tybalt, by the way. You made him a whole new person. You even made me care for the bloke.”

Harry squinted his eyes, “Do you really mean that or are you just saying that to encourage me since I’ve had a rough two days as Dorian Grey?”

Louis put his hand of his wrist but removed it the second Harry vinched at the surprising touch, “Hey, I mean it. Okay?”

“I believe you,” Harry said, looking down to his glass with his shoulders dropped, “Can I tell you something, Louis?”

“Of course, I’m all ears.”

Harry struggled to get the words out, it’s not as he wasn’t used to talking with strangers in a bar, but when he did he always had the intention to fuck them. Talking with Louis was something else, something new, “I’m afraid I haven’t connected with Dorian yet. Playing Tybalt was so easy. He came to me straight away, from the first day of rehearsals. But Dorian Gray,...he’s a prick.”

Louis put down his glass before speaking, “Maybe he isn’t the most pleasant person, but he’s not _only_ a prick. Can I give you an advice?” He turned on the stool so that his body faced Harry’s.

“Most definitely,” Harry said, eyeing Louis short figure for a split moment before looking up to his eyes and then down to his beer again.

“Well, if I were to play Dorian Grey, I would think of him as the persona of the human greed and lust. He ’s the whole world's longing for beauty and acceptance put together in a single person. He’s not evil, nor is he good. He’s simply young and naive and at times a little prick, that I can’t argue.”

Harry looked at him with astonishment, “Wow. I really wish I wasn’t drunk right now, I would really like to remember all of this on Monday.”

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” Louis said with a frown.

“You don’t know me, so how could you possibly know how drunk I am,” Harry said, giving Louis a wink as he sipped on his beer.

“Fair enough,” Louis chuckled and looked down at his phone, “It’s getting late and I didn’t take the car this morning, so I’ll get going. But if it will help you sleep better, I promise to scribble that nonsense down and give it to you on Monday, sounds good?”

Harry swallowed hard, a sting of disappointment hitting his stomach,  “Oh, yes, I would love that.”

“Great, then I’ll see you Monday morning! Sleep well,” Louis smiled and jumped down from his stool and gave little wave before walking away. Harry turned to look after him as he opened the door and stepped outside, and to his own shock, he realised he didn’t like to watch him leave. A strange mobility settled in his chest, and he argued it must’ve been the alcohol affecting him. Normally he couldn't wait to be left alone, but this time it had felt different, and he couldn’t make out if it was a bad thing or not.


	4. Chapter 4

_150 days until the premiere._

**[Sunday, 10:03 a.m. 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Harry woke by fingers stroking his cheek together with the sounds of children playing in the park that streamed inside the open window. He slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight that fell over the bed.

"Morning, beautiful," Camille said as she played with a curl of his hair between her fingers. He gave out a humming sound and curled up underneath the covers.

"I'm not ready," he said, closing his eyes again. Camille laughed, and found his bare chest under the covers, her hand tracing over the side of his upper body, "Is she still here?" he asked and opened his eyes again.

"Unfortunately," Camille said, pouting her lips. Harry gave out a grunt and rolled over to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, "It isn't her fault you know,..."

"If she didn't exist, he wouldn't be this miserable," Harry said, as Camille's finger kept tracing up and down his chest.

"You don't know that," she argued, puller her hand back and sat up, "If she didn't exist he would've been with someone else. Maybe someone exactly like her, or someone worse."

"That doesn't mean I have to like her, does it now?" Harry looked at her with a challenging expression and Camille sighed as she threw the covers aside and sat her feet on the floor, "are you staying for breakfast?" Harry asked when she bent down to pick up her bag.

She opened the bag, took out her phone to check the time, "No, I've got somewhere to be," she turned to look at him.

"Ugh, so you're leaving me with those two,..." Harry placed his hand over his eyes, kneading his temples. Camille looked back at her phone, bit her lower lip as she unlocked it and stood up.

"I'm afraid so," she answered in a short manner, and Harry took away the hand from his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, rising from the pillow to rest his weight on his elbows.

Camille sighed, grabbed her shirt and put it on over her bare chest, "No, nothing's wrong," she reached for her jeans that laid thrown over the chair near the window, opened her mouth to add something but got distracted by the sound of loud voices outside the bedroom door. Harry rolled his eyes and laid himself back down on the bed with a grunt.

"It's just that it would've been nice if you for once actually showed some interest in my life outside of work," Camille said when the voices vanished into the kitchen, put on her jeans with speed and buttoned them with tense fingers, "It's not like I just sleep here four nights a week and always shows an interest in you and your life, even if you rarely share any of that with me. I don't know, Harry, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm tired of  _this,_ " she pointed at him, "of you being like this."

Harry laid stiffened on the bed, "Why are you here then if that's how you feel?"

Camille threw her hands up, walked up to the window and looked out on the playing children behind the backyard, the sunlight warming her face through the glass, "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe it's because I've been stupid enough to think you would eventually get better."

"Get better?" Harry asked, his voice flat.

"Change," she admitted, "I thought that if I didn't give up on you, you would eventually open up to me," she shook her head, pressing her lips together as she closed her eyes, "That was a fucking stupid thing of me to expect."

"What did I do now to make you feel this way?" Harry said, staring at the back of her head with tired eyes.

Camille shrugged and let out a short laugh, "Honestly, it's more what you didn't do," she turned from the window and walked back to the bed where her bag still laid, "Maybe I'm overreacting, I don't know. Either way, I need to go. I assume you don't care, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. I've got an important meeting with a journalist specialising in women's rights and sexism in the labour market, it's pretty important for me so it would've been nice if one of the persons I care about actually showed a sign of interest," she grabbed the bag and her sweater from a hook hanging on the door, placed a hand on the knob, "I'll see you tomorrow at work and don't bother asking how the meeting went."

The door closed behind her and left Harry in frozen silence. He looked out the window, the threes flew back and forth in the breeze that flew over the wide park, he listened to dogs barking and children laughing and let out a sigh. He had done it again. He had hurt her without even the slightest clue. Not once had he meant for it to happen, but that didn't stop it from happening over and over and he was sure one of these days she would stop coming back. One side of him wished her to, but the other dreaded the nights he would have to spend alone in the huge bed if she finally had enough of him.

Chills passed over his naked body when he threw the duvet aside and placed his feet on the soft carpet underneath the bed. He grabbed his underpants from the end of the bed, put on a t-shirt and before he stepped outside the room he pulled his hand through his hair, pushing himself to keep his temper together once he stepped inside the kitchen. Something that would be a challenge.

"Morning sunshine," a smug voice greeted him, and he knew right away this morning wouldn't get any better, simply worse.

"Good Morning, Gigi," he answered, walked up to the fridge without paying her a single glance. In the corner of his eye, he could see Zayn give her a side eye from the kitchen table, and she rolled her eyes.

"I made you a cuppa, ginger and milk," Zayn said and Harry turned. On the countertop stood one of Harry's favourite cups, smoke rising from it. So this is one of those days, Harry thought as he grabbed the brown leave patterned cup. One of those days Zayn had decided everything was as usual.

"Thanks," he said and leaned against the counter with the cup close to his mouth, blowing air on the hot water. He would have taken a seat at the table if it weren't for the one sitting across from Zayn that was now eyeing him. He ignored her.

"There are some beans left as well if you're hungry," Zayn said, looking down on his phone. Harry nodded but didn't make a move, "So Camille left for her meeting, huh?"

Harry's eyes darted at Zayn, "Did you know about that?"

"Didn't you?" Zayn looked up from his phone, "It's the only thing she's been talking about for weeks. You honestly didn't know about it?" he said with a frown. Gigi gave out a snort, and Zayn gave her a warning look.

"What?" Harry asked, giving her a glare.

"You should honestly start paying more attention to your girlfriend," she said, giving him a sardonic smile.

Harry clenched his jaw, "And how many times do I have to tell you she isn't my girlfriend before you get it?" He said putting his hand on the edge of the counter, hugging it hard in his palm. He wanted to scream at her, make her leave their apartment and leave him the hell alone, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't worth it.

"Guys,..." Zayn begged them and Gigi flicked her head to the side, her ponytail following close behind.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said and left the room. Harry eyed the dirty plate and breadcrumbs she left behind on the table and sighed. When they heard the door to the bathroom close, Zayn turned to Harry with a tired sigh.

"Didn't I ask you to at least try to behave?"

"I do try!" Harry argued in defence, but the look in Zayn's eyes made him cave, "Well, I'll behave if  _she_  behaves, and when she learns how to do the dishes."

"Not everyone can be a neurotic cleaner, Harry,.." Zayn said, shaking his head, "I really don't get why you hate her so much."

"So now it's neurotic wanting to have a clean apartment?" Harry said in a sour voice and watched as Zayn grabbed the plates from the table, carrying them to the sink.

"There is a line between clean and compulsive behaviour," he said, opening the tab to the water and grabbed the dish soap, pouring it over the plates as Harry watched him.

"I'm not compulsive,..." Harry said under his breath, turning his head away from Zayn. Maybe he was wrong, this wasn't one of those days Zayn would behave as if everything was perfectly fine between them. He hated that word, compulsive. It was a dirty word, a word he didn't want to be associated with. It had been thrown at him before by Zayn, and it always made his chest feel heavy.

"Whatever," Zayn said and put the plates in the drainer, "Are you excited for tomorrow?" He met Harry darkened eyes.

"What's tomorrow?" Harry asked, sipping on his tea, forcing himself not to look at the breadcrumbs on the table. He knew he would have to brush them off later if Zayn didn't do it, but not in front of him.

"The character portraits," Zayn said, grabbed the dishcloth and walked up to the table to clean off the breadcrumbs. Harry relaxed his shoulders in relief but stiffened right away when Zayn mentioned the portraits.

"Oh, I had forgotten about that," he admitted. It wasn't a lie, he had totally forgotten about the photography. It was a habit he had learned to keep the last couple of months, not to think about work during the weekends if possible, and if it wasn't he made sure to party enough to make him think of anything else but work.

Zayn turned to look at him, "So what do you think of the new guy?"

"I think it's too early to tell," Harry shrugged, and watched as Zayn's eyes squinted at him, "What?"

"Nothing," Zayn shook his head and walked back to the sink to clean the cloth before putting it back in its place, "You seemed to get along at the three crowns, that's all."

"What? Are you surprised I managed to have a normal conversation with a stranger? I'm not a child, you know."

Zayn's mouth pinned together, "Not what I was aiming for but sure, be my guest, take everything I say as an insult."

Harry snorted, emptied the last of his tea and placed the cup in the sink, careful not to walk too close to Zayn that took a step back to give Harry room to move. The air between them felt hostile as if they wanted to misread each other.

"Liam seems to like him," Harry said, causing Zayn to dart his head at him with speed.

"Wha-, okay?" Zayn said with knitted eyebrows, his hands having trouble to find a good spot to be placed, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Harry bit his lip, filled his teacup with water and rinsed it clean, "Nothing really, it's just something I've picked up on. They seem close,"

"Well yeah, they're friends from college, right? Why wouldn't they seem close? Or do you mean they're-,...?" Zayn spoke faster now, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

Harry shrugged, placed the cup next to the plates in the drainer, "No, I don't think so. Does it matter though, if they are?" he asked, drying his hands on the towel hanging at the oven door, his eyes steady on Zayn's face who shook his head.

"No, of course not. Why would it matter?" He asked, the question sounding to be more aimed at himself than at Harry who watched him with amusement.

"You tell me," Harry said in a low voice as he turned away from Zayn's blushing face, walking up to the doorframe "I'll be at Sarah's all day, so don't bother making dinner for me, and  _please_ , make Gigi dry up the floor in the bathroom when she's done. You know how much the drain stinks when it's left wet for too long." He said before he left Zayn standing with his flushed cheeks at the counter and entered his room, that in his opinion was the perfect example of just the right amount of clean.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five.**

149 days until the premiere

**[Monday, 07.30 a.m Piccadilly Circus underground station.]**

The air felt thickening inside of Harry's lungs as the train slowed in at Piccadilly station. People, people everywhere, every damn morning. He really wished he had gotten that drivers license back when he was younger if only the thought of taking a seat behind the wheel didn't make his head spin.

The door opened and people streamed out, everyone with their eyes turned blankly forward. They all had somewhere to be and no one was allowed to get in their way, and Harry followed their lead out from the underground tunnels. As he stepped outside he breathed in a lung of air, rushed over the trafficked street as the light turned green. Crossed the Piccadilly square, avoided early morning tourists and their iPhone cameras and rounded a corner until he spotted the well known yellow sign and entered the theatre.

He shut up the door, pushing his bag aside to get through. He moved through the building without looking up, hung off his jacket and bag inside his locker and grabbed his script before heading towards the kitchen to grab a cup of watery coffee, at least it was better than spending £5 on an overrated cafe latte from Starbucks. Luckily he didn't meet someone until he stepped inside the auditorium with his cup clutched in his hand, yesterday's mishap with Camille had stressed him out all morning, and there she was. Sitting on the edge of the stage, her face snapping back forward as soon as she saw it was him who stepped inside.

He moved over the stage, nodded as Niall greeted him good morning and sat himself down at his usual chair, opened the script, mostly to avoid Camille's obscure eyes and began to read.

"Good morning lads! And Camille, I've been meaning to ask you, do you feel excluded when I use that word? Because that is not my intention at all!" Louis merry voice spoke out as he joined the others on the stage. Harry's head snapped back up to look at him, and at once the air around him seemed less hostile.

"I can live with being a laddie, that's not a problem." Camille fired of a warm smile towards Louis who tilted his head towards her.

"Ace! Alright," he clapped his hands together, "Today's the day, I've rigged my camera gear upstairs and I'll call you up one by one during the day, sounds good?" Everyone around the room gave him a nod and he looked around, "Nick? Wanna go first?"

"Surely, let me just grab my things."

Harry looked as Nick skipped over to his bag, a tumble of nerves hitting him as he realised he would soon be next to go up. Standing in front of a camera, representing the character he felt almost no connection to. He knew it would be a disaster and that Louis would see him for the fiasco he was.

"Hey," he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped in surprise. Louis had walked up next to him, and in his hand, he held a piece of paper, "Here's that nonsense I promised you," He said and handed him the paper. Harry looked down at what was written and a tiny smile broke out on his lips. Louis handwriting was neat and cursive, it reminded him of his year 3 teacher back home in Holmes Chapel.

He barely had the chance to thank him before he was on his way down the stairs again, "Thanks!" He called out after him and Louis gave him a smirk before walking out.

**[Monday, 15.46 p.m Jermyn Street Theater Kitchen]**

A sigh left Harry as he opened the microwave door. Why hadn't Louis called him up yet? The thick nervous knot in his stomach only grew bigger the more time that passed. It didn't help that Camille hadn't spoken a word to him except when she needed to, or that she and Zayn had the time of their lives during the rehearsals.

He grabbed the cup of ramen from the microwave but flinched as he burned his finger, "Fuck!"

"You alright?"

Harry turned to the entrance, to find Louis standing there with concerned eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I never learn with this stupid cup noodles," he placed the cup on the counter.

"I've got time for your portrait now if you're ready, but maybe you'll have to eat first?" Louis asked.

"No, that's fine. I'm ready now," Harry said, trying to hide how nervous he really was as he followed Louis upstairs and inside the dance studio that was now operating photo-studio.

"Are you ready for this?" Louis said, pointing him towards the white backdrop and grabbing his camera.

"Do I have a choice?" Harry bit his lower lip, his eyes darting all over the room as he placed himself in the centre of the backdrop, two bright lights hitting him in the face.

Louis gave him a peculiar smile, "No, not really," and then he lifted the camera and without warning he snapped a shot.

Harry flinched at the sudden flash, "Hey! I wasn't ready!"

"I'm sorry, just wanted to shock you a little. So you know what's coming."

Moments later, Harry still moving stiffly in front of the camera, he seemed to have lost control over his face. He couldn't make it do anything that Louis asked him to.

Louis peaked his face out from behind the camera, his finger still on the shutter, "How are you feeling?"

"I don't think this will work. To be honest, I'm quite uncomfortable," Harry said, leaning his weight back and forth between his feet.

Louis gave it a quick thought, then he put the camera down, "Fuck this, let's go somewhere else?"

Harry's brows knitted together, "What?"

"Let's go somewhere where you can feel inspired. This room doesn't do any good. What do you say?" Louis said, examining Harry's reaction.

"Sure,...but where?"

"I think I know the perfect spot. Do you trust me?" Louis asked and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"It depends. Are you a safe driver?"

Louis gave out a chuckle, "I promise I'll drive safely as long as you're in the car. Okay?"

"Mhm, okay. Let's go," Harry agreed and Louis face lit up.

"Great, you find something you would like to wear and I'll pack these things up!"

What had he just agreed on? Harry asked himself, but as he watched Louis packing  the camera equipment he forgot about the anxious tingling in his stomach. Maybe going somewhere else was just the thing he needed to find Dorian somewhere inside of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of different from the others, been struggling with it for months and just wanted to get it done.  
> Just wanted to tell you I'm aware of it!  
> Much love!

 

 

**[Jermyn Street Parking Garage, 16:15 p.m.]**

"Nice ride," Harry said as he looked around inside the car, stroking his hands against the light leather seat. He didn't know much about cars, but this one seemed,...nice.

Louis turned his key inside the ignition lock, pushed the gas pedal and steered out of the garage, "I'm sorry about the tobacco smell," he said, pinning his lips together, "I wish I could tell you it was like this when I bought it, but that would be a total lie."

Harry watched as they passed out onto Regent-street, rush hour, he thought, glad to be seated inside of a car, "You're that hooked, are you?" he asked, turning towards Louis.

Louis gave out a sigh, as he turned the steering wheel into a roundabout, "Unfortunately."

Harry eyed Louis hand on the wheel and bit his lip, "I don't mind the smell,"he said, turning to look outside the window again, it hadn't taken them long to get them away from the worst traffic,"As long as you don't smoke in the car when I'm in it."

A smile tugged on Louis' lip, "You really hate it, huh? The smell?"

Harry gave out a shrug, wrinkling his nose, "The smell, the concept, everything," he turned quite, eyed Louis from the side, "To be honest,...I've got this irrational fright for lung cancer."

Louis' eyes widened, before he looked to Harry with soft eyes, "I don't believe that is an irrational fear. I think that's a fear everyone should have, maybe then people will stay away from cigarettes?"

"Want me to scare you?" Harry said, wiggling his brows.

Louis gave out a laugh, "Sadly that won't help. I've tried," he said, turning the car into a crossing.

"Yeah, I tried that on Zayn when we moved in together. He did quit tho, best four months in my life," Harry said, the bitterness more obvious then he had planned.

"But he started again?" Louis asked, giving Harry a quick glance.

Harry gave out a smirk, "Of course he did. You smokers are weak."

"That we are," Louis agreed with a slow nod.

Harry turned to look out the window, they were now leaving the city behind, nature taking over the pavement around them from skyscrapers and fumes.

 **[** **Iford manor,** **16.40 p.m.]**

Harry closed the car door, eyes wide as he took in the majesty before him, "Wow, you've brought me to a castle!?"

Louis walked up to Harry, his eyes following where Harry was looking. Before them towered a stone building, very much like a castle, "It's not an actual castle, more like a mansion. But they've got a beautiful public garden that's perfect for photography," he explained and opened the trunk of the car. "Do you want to change clothes in the car, or?" he asked eyeing Harry's change of clothes in the trunk.

Harry looked around the parking lot, "Nah, I can do it outside if there's no one around."

Louis grabbed the clothes from the trunk, handed them over to Harry "I'll keep watch."

Harry took the clothes and unbuttoned his trousers, "Still good?" he asked as he slipped out of his jeans. It wouldn't have been a big deal if anyone happened to see him in his underwear, anywhere else. This place seemed fancy, and his worn-out Calvin Klein's was anything but.

For a second, Harry saw Louis eyes travelling down his legs before he shook his head, "Yeah, still good, no one around."

"Done!" Harry called out as he dragged on the pearl-clad jacket he had chosen back at Jermyn Street.

Louis eyed him for a second, rose his brows and then pointed towards the hedge in front of them "Great, follow me." Louis walked over the parking lot, Harry following close behind.

 **[** **Iford Manor Garden,** **17.10 p.m.]**

Louis stood with his hand on the shutter, looking at Harry through the camera lens, "This looks perfect, if you could just stop moving around, that would be great."

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to this," Harry said looking down to his feet, heat rising on his cheeks.

Louis lowered the camera, "Oh I'm sure that's a lie."

"Hey!"

"You're telling me people haven't begged to photograph you over the years?" Louis asked, looking down at the camera with raised brows.

Harry shook his head, his lips pressed together, "Nope."

Louis rolled his eyes, "Fine. Could you stand up?" he said and took a step forward, and before Harry realised it Louis' hand was stroking back a strand of hair behind Harry's ear, "Either way, you should consider a career in modelling."

Harry hid his face inside his hands, "No please, not you as well!"

"Aw, poor Mr handsome guy being told by everyone how beautiful he is. Must be a real pain," Louis teased as he put the camera back up in front of Harry's blushing face.

"Are we almost done?" he asked, pouting.

Louis let out a laugh, "Hey, come on, I'm sorry. Just a couple more," eyes turning big, "Please?"

Harry's brows knit together, he could refuse, he wanted to, but then he saw Louis pouting lips behind the camera, "Fine, a couple more, but then I'm done!"

**[Five photos later]**

Louis stood browsing between the pictures, "Wow, these are really good. Do you want to see?" he held out the camera towards Harry who stood to brush grass off his pants.

"Nah, not really." He wasn't much for looking at himself.

Louis grimaced, but didn't bother him with it again, "Either way I'll send one of these to you for you to use on your Tinder profile."

Harry gave out a snort, "After spending two hours with me I'm surprised you think I'm socially fit to have Tinder."

"Alright, your Instagram then perhaps?" Louis asked, smiling.

"Fine, send me one and I'll post it to Instagram," Harry said and sat down in the grass, rolling his eyes as Louis laughed.

Louis smirked at him and connected the camera to his phone and began uploading the photos as he sat down in the grass. He watched as Louis fiddles with the pictures on his phone, "What time is it?"

Louis looked up, "Quarter past six. Do you want to leave?"

"No, or, it's just that I didn't eat any lunch and I'm awfully hungry," Harry bit his lip.

Louis' eyes widened as he looked at Harry, "Oh my god, Harry, why didn't you say anything? We could have stopped on our way here to get you something."

Harry shrugged, "I didn't think about it."

"Let me guess, you didn't want to be a burden?" Louis asked.

Harry looked down at his fingers in the grass, "Something like that."

Louis shook his head, "Not okay. Well, get your as up because we're getting dinner."

**[Louis' car, 18.05 p.m.]**

"Got any preferences?" Louis asked as the engineer gave out a growl.

"Preferences?" Harry asked, confusion passing over his face.

"In food!" Louis exclaimed quickly.

"Oh," Harry gave out a chuckle, "No not really. I'm usually the one that cooks,..."

"Really? What's your favourite dish to cook then?" Louis asked as they drove out from the parking lot. Darkness falling outside the car windows.

"I don't know. Mushrooms?" Harry said, a hand on his cheeks as he looked out the window.

Louis let out a giggle, "Mushrooms?"

Harry turned to him, "Italian? French? Asian? Everything?"

"Would classic British pie do?" Louis asked, turning his head to look at Harry.

"It would be perfect," Harry said, a warm smile spreading on his lips.

**[Restaurant parking lot, 18.25 p.m.]**

Louis turned of the engineer, "Mind if I have a smoke before we get inside?"

Harry nodded, "Of course, I can stay in the car."

Louis gave out a grunt, "No, come on. Then I'll wait."

Harry smiled, and looked out the window, "I can sit on that bench, and you can stand over there? Fine?" he said, and pointed towards a bench on the other side of the parking lot.

"Fine," Louis agreed, and they stepped outside the car.

Harry walked over to the bench, watching as Louis lit the cigarette, "Tastes good?"

"One of my bests," Louis said, a smug smile on his face as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, "How's the bench?"

Harry shrugged, "The air's very fresh and crispy over here, you should try it sometime."

"Oh bite me, Styles." 


	7. Chapter 7

**[Monday, 21:24 p.m Notting Hill, Louis Apartment]**

Louis put the camera bag down on the floor, lighted a candle, let out a heavy sigh and fell back onto the sofa with a thud. Head spinning, the smell of Harry's perfume lingering in his nose as he looked up to the ceiling. What a day.

He grabbed his phone from his jeans, unlocked it:  **3 missed calls from Danielle**. He sighed but pressed the contact and took the phone to his ear.

She answered after one signal, "Hi darling, I was worried. Where were you?"

"Hi. Don't be worried, please, there's really no need, Danielle. I was out with a guy from the cast."

"Out where? And what guy?" Of course, she was worried, but he wasn't sure he could blame her. He dragged his hand over his face.

"Stop sounding like that, please. We were out taking photos for the production and then we grabbed dinner, it's really no big deal."

"Right,..." Clearly on her guard, "what's his name then?"

"Harry," his voice sounded warm as he pronounced it.

"And how's this Harry like?" Danielle asked, still on her guard, but he knew she tried her best not to let it shine through.

"He seems like one of the good ones," Louis said, smiling.

"Is that so,...I can almost see the fonding over the phone, you're really making me jealous over here, you prick," She laughed.

Louis chuckled, "Don't be jealous sweetheart. He's just a guy from work."

"A guy from work, that you just spent a whole afternoon and evening with?"

"Oh forget it," Louis shook his head.

"I'm joking!" Danielle exclaimed, but then she turned serious again, "but you do understand that I'm worried, right?"

"Yes, I understand completely, and that's okay. Just don't start picturing scenarios that will never happen in that worried mind of yours. Okay?"

"I'm doing my best."

"I know, I appreciate that," Louis said softly. He owed her so much for every night she sat at home worrying about his pathetic ass.

"Well, I need to go. Shall we say same time tomorrow?"

"Sure, sounds good," he said, grabbing the remote controller.

"Okay, goodnight darling. Take care!"

"Sleep tight," he said before he heard the clicking sound of Danielle ending the call. He turned on the tv, zapped between the channels until he couldn't keep himself from it any longer.

He rose from the sofa, grabbed his Mac from the dining table and plugged in the camera, opened the folder he had created for today's work and scrolled down to the bottom. Opened the last picture he had snapped of Harry, his curls casually framing his face, some loose strands of hair resting in front of his right eye. His lips slightly parted, and his eyes looking straight into the camera. Straight at Louis. Holy fuck, he was beautiful and holy fuck, he wasn't supposed to feel like this.

**[Thursday, 14:12 p.m Jermyn Street Theatre]**

The day had passed by slowly. He just got out from a long meeting with Jeff, planning the upcoming weeks, something he normally would find enjoyable but he was restless today. Perhaps it was because of his sleepless night, or the bugging feeling of something else. At least he was happy they had decided to wrap up early today, he needed time to clear his head.

As he stood bent over the last notes before he could leave someone called his name, "Hey, Louis!"

"Mmm," he said without looking up, but then the smell of the perfume hit him, the same perfume that still lingered in his car from yesterday, so he looked up, "Oh, hi Harry. Where where you at rehearsals this morning?" Not that it had been a drag without him or anything.

"Oh, Jef made me read up on lines upstairs and then I took a long lunch, and yeah,...nevermind. What are you doing tonight?"

Apart from waiting at a call from Danielle, Louis thought, "Nothing special,"

"So you're free?" Harry lit up, and Louis sensed the blood rushing to his cheeks the more he looked at those hopeful green eyes.

"Yes."

"Do you want to go out with us then? Some of us are going to hang at mine and Zayn's place and then we're going to Heaven."

Louis frowned, "heav-Oh, the gay club?" He said in realisation.

Harry chuckled, "Yes. I'm pretty sure all of us are going to hell either way. But do you want to come?"

Louis couldn't help but see right through Harry's charade of looking careless. Which made everything so much harder.

"Ehm, I'm not really a club person,..." He stumbled on the words, knowing the rejection would hurt Harry's already stained self-esteem, "I really appreciate that you asked though!"

"Oh, I see, of course. Maybe some other time then," Harry looked down at his feet, and just like that, Louis had pushed him back into his shell, "Well, I'll better get going, see you tomorrow."

Harry was out of the room before he could say anything else, and he clenched his fist on the table. It's for the best, he repeated to himself, you know this is for the best. But the feeling wouldn't stop flushing over him, not in the car on his way home. Not in the supermarket as he grabbed ingredients for his favourite lasagna, not even when he got home and started blasting Nirvana on highest volume as he chopped vegetables for dinner.

He couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. About the perfume. About the photos. He couldn't stop thinking about him and something told him he wouldn't stop thinking about him this night either.

When he had finished his second portion of lasagna and his third glass of Pepsi in front of Friends on the TV, he gave up. Grabbed his phone and started writing a text he knew he wasn't supposed to write.

**Text message to Payno:**   
**20:08**   
_Hey, Liam. What's up? I just remembered there are some notes I forgot to brief to Harry that he needs before tomorrow. May you send me his number?_

He gave it a second of thought before he pressed send, tossed the phone aside and laid back into the couch. Focused on Rachel swooning over her new hired assistant, forced himself not to check his phone until he really heard a buzz, and there it was. The buzz.

He grabbed the phone, almost dropped it to the floor but managed to save it in the last second.

 **Text message from Payno:**  
 **20.15**  
 _Sure man. I'm sorry about the contact name, I had no part in it!!_  
Open contact:  **Big dick Styles.**

A short laugh left Louis mouth until he gave it a deeper thought but regretted it right away. Pushing the questions aside he pressed the contact, hesitated for a second, then he pressed dial.

One signal, two signals, three signals, four signals,...No answer. He let out a heavy sigh, leaned backwards and once again he told himself; it's for the best. Then there was another buzz.

**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**   
**20.20**   
_Who's this?_

Louis smirked and pressed answer.

**Text message to Big Dick Styles:**   
**20:21**   
_It's Louis, Tomlinson._

**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**   
**20:23**   
_oh, right_   
**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**   
**20:24**   
_wait_ _a second_

Louis stared at the words, would he write something more? Was this it? He just made a fool out of himself, didn't he? Of course, he did. Fuck. But then the phone started buzzing in his hand and he jumped in shock.

**Incoming call from Big Dick Styles**   
**Answer/Decline**

He looked at the phone into ave for a second before answering, "Louis."

"Hi!" Harry said, trying to overtalk the loud noises in the background.

"Hi," Louis rolled his eyes at himself. Was that the best thing you could do?

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your call," Harry said, "I've got this thing where I don't answer when unknown numbers call."

"I can't say that I'm surprised," Louis couldn't help but smile at that. He hadn't known him for longer than a few days, but it was already clear to him Harry was a worried soul.

"Hey," he said in that played offence Louis had already got used to, "Lower the music Z, I can barely think in this chaos!" He shouted and Louis laughed quietly, "sorry 'bout that."

"No worries."

"Did you want anything special?"

"Actually I called to say that I've changed my mind," Louis said without giving it a second thought. He knew he did best not to get involved, but he wasn't being smart, not today.

"Oh?"

"About tonight!" He added.

"Oh! That's awesome, really, great! When can you be here?"

"I can be on my way right away, see you in 15?" Louis eyed the clock on the wall.

"Yes, see you then. Call me when you're outside and I'll come let you in!"

They hung up and suddenly he was in a good hurry. What even was he supposed to wear? He hadn't been out in a club in years. Was he supposed to dress gay? How even do you dress gay? He asked himself bitterly. There's no code for that. Pull yourself together Louis he scolded himself as he rushed inside the bathroom to fix his hairdo.

Ten minutes later he was on his way out the door, his heart beating fast and his hand gripping on to his car keys. He jumped inside the car and pulled out his phone.

**Text message to Danielle:**   
**20:55**   
_Can't talk later. Going out with Harry. It's a good thing! :)_

Then he started the car and drove towards Brixton.


	8. Chapter 8

**In honour of Harry's birthday, here's another chapter. Happy birthday beautiful.**

 

**[Thursday, 21.09 p.m, 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Louis parked the car right outside the apartment. Looked up at the bright blue door, swallowed hard and breathed in and out before he picked up his phone to call Harry.

"Outside?"

"Yes."

"I'll be down in a second," Harry hung up and he unbuckled his seatbelt. There was no turning back now. The phone buzzed in his lap.

**Text message from Danielle:**   
**21:10**

Going out? Out where? A pub? Are you sure that's a good idea?

 **Text message to Danielle:**  
 **21.11**  
I'm confident. Don't worry. I'll call you tomorrow. Xx

There was a knock on the car window and outside stood a smiling Harry, waving at him to jump outside the car. He locked the phone, grabbed the car keys and stepped outside.

"Hi," Harry greeted him as Louis walked up beside him, "I'm glad you changed your mind!"

"How come? I have to warn you, it's been a while since I went clubbing." Louis asked as they walked up the stairs to the blue door.

"Well, for starters we all think you're a blast and secondly I didn't thank you enough for yesterday. It really helped to get out somewhere else, trying new things. And the dinner was lovely," he said, walking up the second stair and stopped at the first door, "And don't worry about the clubbing, I'll take care of you."

Blood trailed up his cheeks as he looked at Harry's smirking face. It was obvious he was a couple of drinks in, but it suited him. This confidence, the colour on his cheeks and the non-existent filter between his mind and mouth. Not to mention his clothes, the loose fit half-unbuttoned white shirt, together with a pair of high waisted loose black trousers. Louis surely felt underdressed.

"Come in," Harry stepped inside a small hallway, Louis following close behind. He caught the glimpse of four different doorways behind Harry. Music and shatter streamed out from the doorway closest to the front door, he believed it to be the living room, "I can leave your jacket in my room if you don't want to toss it into the pile over there," he pointed towards a teak bench next to the front door that was barely visible underneath a huddle of jackets.

Louis pulled off his jeans jacket, "This old thing won't mind," he said and tossed it over the pile. Harry smiled and Louis had to remind himself not to let his eyes get stuck on his visible chest.

"Can I get you something?" Harry asked and made a move towards what Louis assumed was the kitchen, "A beer?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Louis said, giving his host a reassuring nod.

Harry bit his lip, "I can't let you go around empty-handed. Would an alcoholic-free ginger beer do?" he turned and stepped inside the kitchen before Louis could respond.

"Fine, that would be perfect," he said and entered a kitchen that was even smaller than the hallway. The smell of newly cooked food lingered together with a candle that was still lightened on the wooden table placed against the wall.

"Oh shit," Harry rushed to blow the candle out, "fucking told him to put out the damn candle,..." Louis wasn't sure he was supposed to hear those last words, so he pretended not to notice.

"What a beautiful view!" He said and peaked out the window. Outside laid a large field of green grass and oaks, lightened street lanterns following the small paths around the park as long as the eye could reach, "Brockwell Park? Right?"

Harry turned from the opened fridge to join Louis by the window, "Brockwell is correct," he said and handed him the bottle, "I love living this close to the park, except on Sunday mornings when it's filled with screaming children."

Louis laughed, and brought the bottle to his lips, "Maybe you wouldn't hate it if you weren't hungover all the time," He bickered, and smiled when he saw Harry's face, "Just a thought."

"I don't have the strength for that," Harry said and went back to the fridge to grab another bottle of beer for himself, "Cheers!" He said and joined their bottles together in a toast, "Want to join the others?"

Louis felt the sudden need to shake his head, he wasn't here to meet the  _others_ , but did the opposite and followed Harry's long figure as they made their way towards the living room. Holding on tightly to his ginger-beer he stepped inside and was stung by a thick invisible wall of heat. There were too many people and too little space.

"Tommo!" He heard Liam's well-known voice and found himself in a tight embrace, "Kind of you to join us! Did you send Harry those notes?" He said as he made his way back to his seat at the floor. Fuck.

Harry turned his head towards Louis, "Notes? What notes?"

"Ehm," Louis shook his head, heat travelling to his cheeks, "Just some things from today, we can speak about it later." He said and watched as Harry's shoulders dropped. Of course, he believed it was something bad about him, him and his acting.

"Okay," he answered, pinning his lips together, looking away from Louis who stopped the impulse to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. But when the worried look on Harry's face didn't fade, he couldn't stop himself.

"Hey," He said and softly stroked his shoulder, Harry's arm flinched but his eyes were steady when they joined Louis. The heat from his body shot out towards him and he swallowed hard, "It's nothing you have to worry about, okay?"

"Okay." Harry said again, gave him a quick nod and turned towards his friends, "Everybody who hasn't met him, this is Louis. He's our new director at Jermyn Street."

"Assistant director," Louis leaned towards Harry who rolled his eyes.

"Assistant director, very important note, because God forbid you to step on Jeffrey Azlofs toes!" A laugh broke out from the sofa, where Zayn sat sipping on a glass of wine. Next to him sat a woman with her long legs curled up in his lap. She eyed him from top to toe and smiled without any actual emotion. He decided she wasn't high up in his get-to-know-list.

"Hi Louis," a women rose from the floor next to Liam and Niall, her dark hair falling in wavy curls around her face as she reached out her hand, "I'm Sarah, Harry's  _only_ best friend," she said looking meaningly at Zayn who gave out a laughing snort, "Really nice meeting you."

"Oh, hi! You too," He said, eyeing her curiously. How was it like being Harry's best friend he wondered and looked at Harry who looked a Sarah with so much warmth it shone through his eyes like a ray of sunlight.

"Have a seat," she said and offered him one of the cushions she used on the floor.

"Thanks," he smiled at her and placed the cushion at the end side of the wooden table, also in teak. They sure liked vintage interior in this household he noted as he glimpsed around the room. Everywhere were small details from the past, vintage cameras, old books, dark wooden bookshelves, retro lamps and next to the tv bench stood a record player and underneath a case filled with LP-discs. Streaming out from the speakers were Stevie Nicks sweet voice accompanied by her bandmates singing about love, what else?

He caught Harry's eye who had sat himself down in the couch next to Niall who eyed the feet of the women in Zayn's lap suspiciously. Harry's pink lips turned into a smirk as he looked into his eyes and Louis inhaled slowly as he smiled back, the sound of Stevie's words "Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?" filling up the room. There was a buzz from his phone and he quickly eyed it underneath the table, still with Harry's eyes on him.

 **Text message from Danielle:**  
 **21.47**  
I don't like this Louis, at all.

_What the hell was he doing here?_

**[Thursday, 22.15 p.m, Heaven Nightclub Line.]**

"I told you we should've gotten here sooner, look at this line!" Zayn complained as he turned towards Harry who shrugged his shoulders. Behind red barrier tape, a long line coiled down the street, people stood patiently waiting, all dressed up (and down) to the teeth charing laughs.

"Stop whining, it won't take more than fifteen minutes to get inside," Harry said and closed the door to the Uber who drove off with speed.

"Can you two just for once stop bickering?" The women accompanying Zayn snapped as she leaned towards them. Harry gave her a dark look before walking past them and into the line, waving Louis and Sarah towards him. Louis eyed the line and reminded himself to breathe. Everything would be alright. He was in control.

This was a good thing he told himself as he walked up next to Harry who handed Sarah a tiny jar, "Just a little on the cheeks, would you?" He asked and she blew him a kiss before opening the jar, dipping her finger and lightly stroking his cheeks. Soon his face glistened with tiny sparks of glitter, it looked beautiful and Louis had to bite back a smile, "Thank you, love." Harry leaned over to kiss Sarah on her temple.

"Watch it, if that gets stuck in my hair I won't get it out until spring!" Sarah pushed him away, laughing. Harry took the jar from her and turned to Louis.

"Do you want some?" He said and Louis eyed his glowing cheeks. Maybe he would've said yes, in another life, when he had been as carefree as Harry was right then. His eyes glistening, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and his hair in a complete mess of curls. But Louis wasn't like him.

"I'm fine," he said, and watched as Harry's lower lip gave a pout and his eyes grew bigger, "I'm- no, Harry, I'm not going to do it," Louis tried to sound determined but failed as Harry changed his tactics. He went from begging to demanding with his brows furrowed and his lips tightly strained, "No! Just no," he laughed and Harry sighed but put the jar away in his coat pocket. Louis looked at him thankfully.

"Jeez, is Zayn and Gigi always fighting like that?" Liam said as he joined behind them, tilting his head towards the sidewalk were Zayn and his girlfriend stood closely together, their mouths moving rapidly and their hands throwing up and down.

Harry rose a brow, and then shook his head, "If you only knew."

"How can you stand it, living with that all the time?" Liam asked, tossing a glimpse at the fighting couple.

"I don't. But what's there to do? He does what he wants, never listens to me and now lives a terrible life thanks to-," he stopped mid-sentence and inhaled a heavy breath, "You know what, I should probably shut up now."

Louis' eyes met with Liam's for a second who patted Harry on the shoulder, "You're a good friend, Styles. And Zayn knows that."

Harry gave him a vague smile, "Thanks, Liam," before turning forward. Louis saw the tension in his face as he looked away, and once again fought the impulse to lay a hand on his shoulder when Zayn came up next to the line.

"Haz," He said, placing his hand on Harry's, holding it inside of his, "I'm sorry but we won't-,"

"Save it. Honestly I never expect anything else," Harry said in a sour voice, pulling his hand away from Zayn as he took a step back, almost crashing into Louis who lifted his hands to stop Harry from tripping over his feet.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that." Zayn pleaded, his eyes moving quickly to look a Sarah and Liam and then back to Harry.

Harry gathered himself and Louis removed his hands, "Be like what?" Harry gave Zayn a challenging look.

"Mad, stubborn, bitchy," Zayn spoke with a flat voice.

Harry gave out a snort, "I'm not surprised, that's it. You go have another fight at home and I'll see you tomorrow, probably. Great, good night." He said and gave Zayn a fake smile as he waved towards Gigi who stood leaning against a streetlight, rolling her eyes at the gesture. The line moved forward and Harry stepped away from Zayn who stood with his hands clutched against his sides.

"Grow the fuck up." He spat out between clenched teeth as he walked away from them. Harry pretended not to take notice of the words as he turned towards Louis, smiling. Something was definitely going on between the two, something that had boiled under the surface for a long time Louis figured.

"Are you excited?" Harry flashed of a big smile and Louis had to quickly gather himself from the scene he had just witnessed between the two friends.

"Yeah, definitely. Dancing, sweating, pissing in front of peeking people, can't wait," Louis said and moved forward as the lined moved when he felt another buzz in his jeans pocket. He grabbed the phone and unlocked it.

 **Text message from Danielle:**  
 **22.30**  
Where are you now? Are you okay?

Harry's eyes followed his movements as he sighed and shoved the phone down into his pocket again. He would deal with that tomorrow. It would be a pain, but a pain he had chosen when he agreed on coming here.

"Be ready with your ID," Harry said leaning towards him and Louis quickly grabbed it from the inside of his jacket.

"Ready," Louis smiled at him as the guard eyed Harry's ID and let him trough.

"Welcome to Heaven, sir. Please note that  _any_  drug use inside is forbidden,  _forbidden_." The guard said as he had cast a glimpse on Louis age and let him trough, and there it was, he was officially inside of a nightclub for the first time in years. He felt the panic creeping but then he felt Harry's fingers enclose around his wrist as they moved forward inside the dark hallway towards the echoing music and suddenly he forgot all about what was bothering him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this story so far.  
> I'm completely new to AO3 so sometimes I forget to update, sorryyyy! Will do better.  
> Much Love, xx

**[Thursday, 23.58 p.m, Heaven Nightclub.]**

The music made people crazy, boiling of heat, hormones, alcohol and what Louis most certainly knew was substances a lot stronger than that. They were seated in a separate part of the club, still with full view over the packed dance floor.

Louis sucked on his straw as he leaned over the table, "No way!" he put the glass down, "So this is the club where Freddie Mercury met Jim?  _The_  Jim?  _His_  Jim?"

"Yes, I know, crazy right?" Sarah laughed at Louis surprised face, "Anyone up for a smoke?" she asked and gave Louis and Liam a look. Liam nodded and got up from beside Louis, who eyed Harry over the table. It felt wrong leaving him all alone, now that he knew how much he hated when his friends smoked.

"I'll stay I think," Louis told them and they left with a nod. Harry tilted his head to the side, looking at Louis with curious eyes.

"No smoking today?" he asked with a crooked smirk over his lips, his ring clad fingers enclosed around a glass of Gin & Tonic, his fourth since they got here if Louis had counted correctly.

"Not today," Louis shook his head and straightened his posture against the soft backrest of the couch. He longed for a cigarette, so much he could see the twitches in his fingers, hopefully, Harry wouldn't.

"How come?" Harry said, biting on his straw between his front teeth. Louis didn't know how to answer that. He wasn't even sure why he was here in the first place or was he?

"I'd rather sit here with you, to be honest." Harry's face lit up in genuine surprise, and Louis felt surprised by the answer himself.

"I'm flattered," Harry winked at him and Louis had to clear his throat. Was Harry flirting with him? Or did he read to much into it? He was quite intoxicated, and he got the feeling that drunk Harry was a lot more flirtatious than sober Harry.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Louis said, sucking on his lower lip.

"Go ahead," Harry gestured with his hand over the table.

"I know I'm probably not supposed to, I'm your co-worker, after all, but-,"

Harry gave out a snort, "Screw that!" he called out, "We work in the theatre, and do you know how many fucked up things that happen between co-workers in the theatre?"

Louis was certain he didn't want to know what fucked up things Harry was referring to, but he was right in a way. There weren't many other branches were colleagues went out to one of London's most popular gay-clubs on a Thursday night.

"What's the deal with you and Zayn?" he asked after a short consideration, it may be against his work ethics, but he wasn't here in work right now, was he? He was here as a friend or something like that.

"Oh, wow," Harry laughed bitterly, "Where do I start?"

"I got the feeling you're not a big fan of his girl?" Louis asked to give him an end, to begin with, and Harry took the bate right away.

"What gave me away?" He said, the irony dripping from his words. He took a sip of his drink and placed it on the table, "No, I'm not a big fan of Gigi. I think that goes beyond saying for everyone, including her."

"How come?" Louis frowned in curiosity. Seeing Harry this upset made him think there must be a real reason for his dislike.

"For starters, she doesn't make Zayn happy," he held up a finger in the air, "Secondly, she's not nice," he raised another finger, "Thirdly, she's completely wrong for Zayn," he paused to take another sip, "This isn't a word I like using, especially when talking about a women, but she's a bitch."

Louis bit back a laugh as he watched Harry confess his hatred, clearly those words would never have left his mouth without those four gin & tonics in his system.

"I get why those things would bother you. Have you talked to Zayn about it?" Louis asked, and Harry let out another sharp laughter.

"Many times, but do you think he listens to me?" he sat up his hands in front of him in question.

"My guess is, no?" Louis said, his eyes steady on Harry's face.

"Correct. He never listens, but if he wants to be miserable, be my guest. All I want for him is happiness, and he's never going to find it with Gigi. He should be with someone who's right for him." He sat down his glass on the table with force, drips of the drink splashing down on the surface. Louis eyes narrowed as he thought over what Harry was really saying, "I can see what you're thinking, Louis, but that's not it."

Heat appeared on Louis' cheeks as he met Harry's gaze, who placed a hand on his wrist, "I'm his friend.  _Only_  his friend." Louis froze as Harry's hand tightened around his wrist for a short second, before he pulled away, "I'm gonna get another one, want anything?" He held up his empty glass and nodded towards the bar.

"No, I'm set," Louis said and pointed to his diet coke that was by now more melted ice than soda. He watched as Harry spoke to the bartender, slightly leant forward, his trousers tightening around his lower back and Louis had to mentally pinch himself to look away. He's your colleague.

"Louis," Harry eyed him over the table as he got back, it looked as if he gave it a short consideration before he sat himself down beside Louis on the sofa, "Can I ask you something now?" His hand brushed Louis as he sat his drink down beside him, their shoulders pressed together. Louis swallowed, tried not to focus on the heat spreading out from Harry's drunk body and on to his.

Louis' eyes met his drunk ones, "Of course, anything," he answered and Harry popped his head up and down. He was drunk, so drunk.

Harry opened his mouth, closed it again to leaned in closer to Louis' ear, "Is there a reason you don't drink?"

Louis swallowed as the scent of Harry's burning breath hit him. He wasn't surprised by the question, not at all. It always popped up sooner or later, and that was exactly one of the reasons he never did this; socialising in alcohol-filled environments. Until now. Until him, who now sat dangerously close, his eyes glowing in the dark as they tried to get a catch of Louis'.

"I'm not sure I,..." Louis said faintly, unable to come up with anything else, staring down at his hands. Harry's intense stare softened, and without any warning, he placed a finger over Louis parted lips.

"Forget I asked, that was stupid of me," he shook his head, still with his finger over Louis lips who sat frozen in shock, "I'm sorry," he said and pulled his hand back from Louis' face. His lips suddenly felt very cold. Louis watched as Harry shook his head again, eyes closed.

"Don't apologise!" Louis assured him, "It's something I don't usually talk about, that's all."

"But do you want to talk about it?" Harry looked back at him, his intense stare was back and Louis had to avert his eyes not to get stuck. He eyed his diet coke on the table as he went over his options. Either he could tell Harry the truth, the whole painful, obscene truth or he could lie. He chose the later.

"Not really." And that was that. He had closed his first opportunity to let someone else in for the first time apart from Danielle, and he believed it to be the right thing to do. It didn't matter how beautiful Harry looked as he leaned towards him with his cheeks glistening, and his lips tumid from all the alcohol. And it didn't matter that the evening they had shared together yesterday was the best one in a long while, because Harry didn't know him, and the last thing he wanted to do was to push him away by letting him in.

Then Harry said something that took him by surprise, "Whenever you decide you want to talk about it, I'm all ears." Louis was about to say something when there was a buzz from the pocket of his jeans. He gave Harry an apologetic look as he grabbed the phone to read the text.

 **Text message from Danielle:**  
 **00.14**  
Please Louis, just give me something!

He really was being mean to her, he knew he was, but just for one night, he wanted to pretend. So he locked to phone again and put it away for the fifth time that night, and turned to Harry who had occupied himself with the straw in his glass. God, he was beautiful, Louis thought as he let his eyes travel over his face. The blinking lights reflecting in his green eyes, his white shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, strands of curls laying sweaty over his forehead. A string of warmth hit his stomach as Harry licked a drop of his drink away from his bottom lip. He knew he should look away before Harry noticed him looking at him like that, but it was too late. Harry's eyes turned back up from his glass, straight into Louis' and there was another sting hitting him.

"I need to go to the loo," Harry said silently, but it was enough for the bubble they had just been in to burst and Louis inhaled a lungful of air to regain his senses, "I'll be back soon. Then dance with me?" He asked, eyeing Louis with a raised brow, lips smirking before walking away from the table. Louis looked after him with big eyes. He was definitely flirting with him, and Louis didn't know how to feel about that. It bugged him, but he didn't know if it was the flirting or his own reaction every time he looked at Harry. He wasn't supposed to feel like that when he did, and he knew that. He wasn't supposed to be here at all, but he was.

Five minutes passed, and still no sign of Harry. Ten minutes, twenty minutes and still nothing when Louis decided to get up and look for him. He made his way over to the dance floor, gazing over the floor to get a glimpse of Harry's white shirt but without any luck. Next to the bathrooms, he got a hold of Liam, who had his arms around a slim brunet.

"Liam," Louis said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Hi mate. Enjoying your time? Must've been a long time since you were out on a club. You weren't even with us at our graduation party!" Without a doubt, Liam was hammered too.

Louis just smiled and nodded, "Have you seen Harry?"

Liam's eyes narrowed for a second, "Yeah, I met him by the loo twenty minutes ago. Now I dunno, dancing?"

Louis thanked him and left before witnessing Liam's tongue digging its way down into the brunet. He had no idea where to look for Harry, and once again he asked himself why he was even there. This was not the right environment for him. Everything was too loud, too sweaty and way to riskful, and without the company of Harry, it all became much clearer. He needed a smoke.

Outside he could finally breathe properly as he inhaled the crisp air, and the sound of the street felt soothing compared to the loud base inside. He grabbed the pack from his pocket and lightened a cigarette, inhaled the smoke he had craved for hours and leaned against the glass fence behind him. He rested backwards, bringing the cigarette to his mouth as he saw him.

A hundred inches away stood Harry, laughing loudly at something as he leaned his head towards the shoulder of a light blonde man, his lips creasing the other man's neck who smiled pleasingly. The blonde's hand gripping tightly around Harry's slim waist, as Harry made a little stumble on his feet. They certainly looked comfortable with each other Louis thought as Harry's eyes fell on him.

"Louis!" He called out and made a move towards him, dragging the blonde man with him. Louis gave him a restrained smile, certain Harry wouldn't see the difference.

"Funny to meet you here, I thought you hated cigarette smoke?" Louis teased him, and Harry laughed again, his sharp teeth impossible not to look at.

"Sometimes alcohol makes you do stupid things," Harry said, and a hiccup escaped his chest. When Louis didn't answer he pointed towards the blonde man, who clung onto Harry's side so hard Louis fought the urge to toss the cigarette at him. Something with the look on his face just bothered him, a lot.

"This is Tom, an old coworker of Zayn's actually. Funny how you run into people like that, don't you think?" Harry smiled and let his eyes wander over Tom's perfectly shaped face. Lovely, Louis thought as he inhaled a deep puff of his cigarette.

"Hi, Tom," Louis said with a sharp smile.

"And this is Louis," Harry pointed towards Louis, who eyed his other hand that was now placed on Tom's chest, "He's my assis-"

"His director," Louis cut him off and tossed his cigarette to the ground.

"Oh," Tom said, "Interesting!" He smiled towards Louis and then looked back at Harry with hungry eyes, "That's so sexy, the image of you getting told what to do." Harry gave out a snigger, and before Louis had the chance to look away, Tom's lips were all over Harry. His lips, his jaw, his neck.

Something moved inside of Louis' stomach, something uncomfortable as he watched Harry's hands move up inside blonde strands of hair and his lips moving against Tom's eager ones. He didn't like it. At all, and with that realisation, he decided to leave, quick.

He rushed inside, moved over the dancefloor and exited the club, get hold of a cab and jumped inside.

"42b Dulwich Road, please." He said to the cabbie and rested his head against the car seat. What a fucking idiot he was. Of course, Harry flirted like that with everybody, and he was more than entitled to, it was just that- Louis wasn't supposed to be a part of it. He knew that now. Whatever it was he had felt after their dinner yesterday, it didn't matter. Harry was his co-worker, his co-worker with obvious problems that Louis couldn't get involved in. He needed to stay away from him, for his own good.

He paid the cabbie, jumped out and grabbed his own car keys from his jacket. Before he got inside his car he looked up at the blue front door, the wonder if Harry would sleep inside his own bed tonight passed his mind before he shook the thought off. No, he wouldn't do that. He had no right in thinking such things.

Back home at his place, he went straight to bed after changing out of his clothes, his head falling down onto his pillow with a sigh. Tomorrow he would have to deal with Danielle, and he knew he needed all the rest he could get. But he couldn't sleep, his mind was spinning. All the imprints stuck on his cornea. There was a buzz from his phone laying on the bedside table.

**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**

**01.34**

Where did you go? Been searching for you all over the place.

Louis grunted and locked his phone without opening the message. Turned around, forcing his eyes to stay shut. He needed to sleep, now. Half an hour later, still no sleep, but another buzz.

**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**

**02.02**

Hellooo? U aliright?

Louis gave out a sigh. Couldn't he just put his full attention on Tom or whatever his name was? He was trying to sleep here. But two hours later, sleep still hadn't come to Louis and when there was a third buzz, he quickly unlocked his phone.

**Text message from Big Dick Styles:**

**03.58**

I'll fall aslrep any minute noe, if your laying dead somewhere I'll blame myself forevee. So please dont be dead

And whether Louis wanted to or not, he couldn't fight the smile that played on his lips.


	10. Chapter 10

  "Man is many things, but he is not rational."   - Oscar Wilde

_147 days until the premiere._

**[Wednesday 08:45 a.m. 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Harry woke with a grunt, and with a killer hangover, he realised as he blinked his eyes open. Blimey, he thought as he placed a hand over his head, he wasn't even sure how he got home last night.

There had been Gin & Tonics and at the end of the evening, the tonic had turned to mere gin. There had been dancing, laughing and flirting,...Had he been flirting with Louis? Did they-? He snapped his head to the other side of the bed and exhaled in relief. It wasn't Louis laying there next to him. That wouldn't have been good for anyone.

As he looked at the blonde man he remembered more dancing, and more gin, and himself stumbling around searching for someone. Louis popped up on his cornea once again, Louis and his oversized black hoodie with sleeves so long his hands disappeared inside them. God, Harry had been flirting with him, hadn't he? He gave out another grunt. Why couldn't he keep his hands to himself? Why did he have to be such an embarrassment all the time?

The man next to him turned around, facing away from Harry as he exhaled a long breath. Harry was quite certain his name was Tom, but just quite. Unsure if he was supposed to wake him up or not, he reached for his phone.

There was one missed call from Sarah and one from Liam, and then there was a text from an unsaved number. He frowned and opened it.

**07.45**

_Not dead_

Was the only thing it said and Harry smiled in realisation. He had been searching all over the place for Louis. Of course, and he had been nowhere to be found, so Harry grabbed a cab back home with Tom and then it all went a little blurry again. He eyed the time and pushed himself out of bed. He was supposed to be at work within thirty minutes, but first, he would need to take care of the crippling hangover. He buried his face in his hands before stroking them downwards over his neck and-

 _What was that?_ He traced his finger backwards over his throat, put light pressure on the spot underneath his jaw. Felt the heat when blood rushed to his cheeks as he circulated his finger over the spot. He debated with himself whether he should go to the bathroom to give it a proper look in the mirror as his finger still lingered over the lump.  _Why hadn't he ever felt it before? Or had he felt it but now it had grown bigger?_ The skin underneath his finger grew sore from the pressure but he couldn't stop touching it. He inhaled a lung full of air, felt the dizziness threatening as he sat himself down on the bed, forcing himself to move his hand, but it was too late. He had felt it and now he couldn't think of anything else. Not about the fact that he was running late for work or the fact that he's nightly companion rolled around as he woke up.

The only thing on his mind was this lump. This lump that he knew would be the end of him, the sickness that would spread in his body like poison. It would eat the last of his strength, it would feast on his body until he was no more than a person slowly fading away in a white gown of death in a hospital bed that smelled like his worst nightmare. He was dying. He knew he was and what's the point to do anything when you already know you're doomed? He laid himself down, pressing his arms against his chest as he felt the tears well up in his eyes. He buried his face down into the pillow and swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed but it didn't help.

"Good morning," Tom whispered and moved closer, grabbing Harry by the waist underneath the duvet.

The panic was so thick in Harry's throat it felt like he couldn't breathe. The last thing he needed right now was this man, this stranger, touching him, "Tom," he said with a strained voice, "I think you should leave."

"But-" Tom said, confusion written over his face, but he didn't remove his hand from Harry's waist who bit back another tear. He wasn't supposed to become like this in front of people, only when he was alone.

"Now!" Harry commanded and pushed Tom's hand away who rushed out of the bed to grab his things.

"Did I do something wrong?" Tom looked at him with knitted brows as he moved towards the door.

Harry sighed, "Just leave, please."

"Fine, alright, I'm on my way," Tom said and opened the door, "Nice way to start the day, really." He muttered under his breath as he slammed the door shut. Harry held his breath as he waited for the front door to close and when it did, he clutched his arms hard around his chest and burst into tears.

**[12:06 p.m. Jermyn Street Theatre auditorium]**

"Repeat after me," Jeff said and looked at Harry with big demanding eyes, " _You little fool! You have destroyed my love. Killed it. How could you embarrass me in front of my friends?_ , with passion this time. You hate her for doing this to you!" He gesticulated wildly in front of Harry's face, "What Sibyl has done to you is the greatest betrayal."

Harry inhaled, peaked down at his script before signalling he was ready, " _You little fool_!" he called out, disgust in his words, Jeff nodded in encouragement, " _You have destroyed my love_ ," Harry continued, " _Killed it_." He clenched his fists, taking a step towards Jeff who's eyes burned with delight, he was finally doing it. Acting without stumbling on his words, " _How could you embarrass me in front of my friends?_ "

"Yes, that's what I'm talking about! That's the passion I've been missing!" Jeff said, smiling widely as he gave Harry a light push to the shoulder, "Ready to do it again? With Camille this time?"

"Sure," he agreed, knowing that Camille would rather do a scene with Tommy Wiseau than with him at that moment. She hadn't said a word to him since Sunday morning, and Harry had no idea how to approach her. He watched as she put her water bottle aside and rose from her seat, avoiding Harry's eyes. Great, he thought as she placed herself before him, how the fuck was he supposed to act with someone who didn't even want to look at him?

Jeff cleared his throat, the usual signal for them to begin, but Harry couldn't until Camille looked at him. She was turned towards him, but her eyes were placed inches away from his face. Had he hurt her that much?

"Cam,..." he begged her, knowing full well she understood how uncomfortable this made him.

Jeff leaned forward in his seat, "Come on guys, we're waiting." Nothing, she refused to look at him.

"Camille, is there a problem?" Harry looked up as he heard Louis voice from the upper section, and Camille turned to look at him.

"No, everything's fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"Good, then there's no problem for you to look Harry in the eyes so he can begin?" Louis asked, holding a pencil against his lower lip. Camille sighed but did as he said, and she looked anything but kind. Harry swallowed, tried to ignore the coldness shooting out from Camille's eyes.

" _You little fool!_ " Harry shouted, keeping his concentration steady to not lose track of his lines. He needed to prove Jeff wrong. It was crucial, " _You have destroyed my love_ ," he continued, but Camille's dark gaze made it difficult to keep in character. Could she just drop it? Only for now he wished, but she wouldn't. 

"How-ehm," No-, _no, no, no_. Not now, not when everything went so well, "How dare you to embarrass me-" he swallowed hard, pushing away the knot growing in his throat as the spotlight began to burn. Pearls of sweat forming in the curls of his neck. Fuck, "How dare you," he shook his head in desperation. The sense off Jeff's eyes looking at him like a hawk searching for its prey forcing him to close his eyes. He couldn't breathe.

"Harry," Jeff said, and Harry knew he was about to rise from his seat to come down to the stage. He didn't want to meet his eyes. He didn't want to be here. It was all too much, everything, it suffocated him, "Take a deep breath," the next time Jeff spoke he was standing in front of him.

"Jeff-" Camille tried to say something but Jeff stopped her.

"Harry, you need to get a grip," Jeff placed a hand on Harry trembling shoulder, who without thinking pushed him away.

"Don't, not now," Harry said, still with his eyes closed. He was in a full-blown battle with his own mind, and the last thing he needed was Jeff to push him any further.

Jeff took a step closer, "You need to solve this."

As if he didn't know that, "I'm not bloody stupid," Harry hissed and opened his eyes. Why were they pushing him like this? Why did they want to suffocate him? Couldn't they see he was drowning there right in front of them?

"Tell me what happened. Why did it become like this? What can I do to help?"

Maybe because I'm fucking dying and you all would probably laugh me right in the face if I ever said something about it. Maybe because you're asking too fucking much of me. Maybe because I'm bloody useless. Nobody can  help me, "I don't know."

"You do know, and you need to tell me because we can't keep working like this. You know that." Jeff kept his voice calm, but he didn't understand. He didn't understand a damn thing.

"I can't do this," Harry whispered, panic in his voice.

"What?" Jeff leaned closer, and Harry stumbled backwards.

"I can't fucking do this!" He yelled and met Jeff's eyes. He needed to understand that Harry wasn't capable of doing this. He needed to understand that he was wrong by giving him the part of Dorian, "I can't anymore," Harry said, voice shaking as he leaned down to grab his script from the stage, "Give my part to Zayn or whatever. I'm done," he stated and before storming down the stage he threw his script against Jeff's chest who caught it just in time.

He rushed down the stage, ignoring the crowd of shocked eyes that followed him as he grabbed his jacket and bag. Everything drowned in the sound of his vibrating pulse, his blood boiling in his veins. He could barely feel his feet as he ran up the stairs. The last thing he heard before slamming the door behind him was Jeff calling out from the stage, "Louis, let him be, don't follow him!"


	11. Chapter 11

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."   
―  **Oscar Wilde**

"Louis," Jeff called out as he rose from his seat to rush after Harry, "Let him be, don't follow him!"

But of course, he was going to follow him. The man was in pain for God's sake, and pain was something Louis knew too well. Jeffrey may have been indifferent towards his casts mental state, but Louis would certainly not be. He ran up the stairs and out the front door, but the foyer was empty. Louis calculated whether Harry had run into the loges or out on the street. He chose to go with the later.

"Harry!" He shouted as he stepped outside, his eyes landing on the back of Harry's broad shoulders as he fought to put his coat on. Harry didn't turn, he kept on rushing towards the crossing of Regent Street. The rumbling sound of traffic drowning Louis voice as he tried to call after Harry again. He quickened up his paste, and just as Harry disappeared into the crowded sidewalk Louis got a hold of his wrist. Louis stumbled backwards as Harry turned around with speed.

"What?" He yelled, glaring at Louis who swallowed before looking deeply into Harry's eyes.

"I know you're not okay, so I'm not going to ask that," he said, fighting to keep Harry's focus on him. His eyes darted between Louis, the street, his feet, "I think you need to talk to someone."

Harry snorted, "Why?" he asked, and pulled his arm away from Louis grip. Louis hadn't even noticed he was still holding onto him.

"As I said, you're not okay and I don't know why. But I do know it hurts ten times more when you keep it to yourself," he said, and the anger from Harry's eyes faded. Louis recognized all of it. The tension in his body as his shoulder pulled upwards, the deep sadness that had clutched itself inside Harry's chest that shone through his weary eyes.

"And who am I supposed to talk to? Jeff?" he said, an ironic laugh following, "Zayn?" he said, his jaw clenching, "I'm-" he inhaled a shaking breath, "I'm alone," his voice sunk lower and his eyes got draped with glistening.

"Well...," Louis said carefully, afraid to say too much, but also afraid to say to little.

Harry looked up from his feet, up at Louis' who nibbled on his lower lip, "You could talk to me," he said, "If you want." He saw the confusion pass Harry's face, his brow knit together and twitches ran over his lips.

Harry stood in silence, before pushing his bag over his shoulder, "I think I'm better off alone, actually."

The words hit Louis hard, and he scolded himself for failing as he watched Harry turn his back against him, running over the street towards the Piccadilly underground. He shouldn't have followed him outside in the first place. He should've just stuck to his own bloody business. Whatever it was Harry was struggling with, he had no right in assuming his help was needed or wished for. It clearly wasn't.

Hadn't he decided on this already yesterday? Harry wanted to be alone, and Louis had enough of his own problems. He wouldn't do this again. From now on he would just stick to himself.

**[Wednesday 14.23 a.m. 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Harry stared at the bottle, his fingers tapping against the table. His phone laid lightened beside him, the words screaming at him.  _"Lymphoma, weight loss, a severe form of c****, fever and night sweat,"_. Hadn't he been sweating more lately? And when did he last weigh himself? He stroked his finger over his throat, again.

He moved his eyes to the bottle again. Pouring a glass of wine wouldn't help in the long run, he knew that. But it would help right then. He bit back another round of tears as he stared at the wine. He was tired of crying, it made his head hurt and by now it was pounding.

As he reached for the bottle there was a buzz on his phone, gaining his attention.

**Text message from Z**

**14.27**

_Haz, u ok? Heard what happened from Cam._

_Do y want me to come home tonight? Supposed to go to Gigi's after work but I'll come home if y need me_

_Let me know_

As if he really cared, Harry thought and threw the phone away across the sofa. He had had enough of Google and people today. Could they just leave him alone? First Jeffrey, then Louis and now Zayn. He dragged his hands through his hair, stood up, grabbed the bottle of wine and walked out to the kitchen. He wouldn't do it, not today.

When he returned to the living room he took his phone, opened Zayn's contact and typed:

_I'm fine. Just a little overworked. You know how it gets. No, don't bother coming home, I'll go to sleep early anyway. Don't worry :)_

As he pressed send he went over to the bookshelf, opened the drawer that belonged to Zayn. Ruffled around for a while, he knew it was supposed to be there somewhere. When he didn't find what he was looking for he went over the room and pushed the curtain away that covered Zayn's improvised bedroom, and next to the bed laying on his bedside table he found what he was looking for.

**[16:06 p.m. Jermyn Street Theatre auditorium]**

"That's a wrap everyone. Good work today, I'll see you tomorrow," Jeff closed the script and rose from his seat.

Louis studied him as he placed his notes into his bag, "Jeff, may I have a word?" He asked as his colleague passed his row.

Jeff stopped, "Of course."

Louis smiled politely and walked up to him, "What's the plan?"

"The plan with what?" Jeff said, looking confused.

"Harry? Aren't we supposed to do something?" He said, puzzled by Jeffreys calm. Why wasn't he worried?

"Ah, that," Jeff said, letting out a sigh, "We'll give him a couple of days to calm down."

"A couple of days? Isn't that affecting our work? What are we supposed to do without our protagonist?" Louis asked, a frown growing on his forehead.

Jeff looked down at his notes, dragging a hand through his hair, "I've decided to let Zayn read up on Harry's lines while he's away."

Louis knew the dislike in his face couldn't be masked, "What?" he said, "Isn't that going to send Harry the message we don't want him here? Because we do want him here, right?"

Jeff's shoulder dropped as he looked at Louis with kind eyes, "I know your concern is coming from a good place, that's the kind of person you are, but I've known Harry for a much longer time than you have, and this is the right thing to do," he said, placing a hand on Louis shoulder, "I know it sounds harsh, but this isn't the first time he's done something like this, and I can't let one person's mental health decide whether we'll have a play to perform in six months."

"But by giving his role to Zayn you know that you're pushing him further away, right?" Louis might not know Harry as Jeff knew Harry, but he knew humans, and what Jeff was about to do could get consequences.

"I'm not giving Dorian to Zayn, I'm planning ahead," he paused, "If Harry decides not to come back."

Louis had pinned his lips together as he went over Jeff's words. It was his play, he knew that, but if he was the one to decide-

"You don't approve," Jeff pointed out, raising his chin.

No, he didn't approve.

"It's not that," Louis said shaking his head, "I'm just afraid we'll lose Harry. I know something's bothering him, but I can tell he's a terrific actor. I saw him in Romeo and Juliet, and wow-" he nodded, "Was he good!"

"I don't want to lose Harry, he's the best one I've got," Jeff said, his eyes turning dim, "But I can't save him. Only he can save himself. I'll talk to Zayn tomorrow, and for the rest of the week, we'll rehearse the scenes we can without a Dorian. Sounds good to you?"

Something did still not feel right, but what choices did he have?

"Sounds good," he nodded his head in agreement and Jeff gave him a tap on the shoulder before walking out. Louis was about to follow when there was a buzzing in his jeans pocket. Of course, he still hadn't talked to Danielle and she would definitely be outrageous by now. He took the phone and placed it to his ear.

"Yes, Danielle, I know I was supposed to call you sooner but-" he said and walked up the stairs.

 _"What?"_ the raspy voice on the other line said.

"Oh, sorry!" Louis shook his head, still not sure who it was he was talking to, "Who's this?"

 _"I didn't know who to call,..."_ the voice went quiet,  _"It's Harry. I think I need help."_

"Harry!" Louis exclaimed as he stepped out on the street, "What's the matter?"

 _"It's- could you just come here?"_ Something with Harry's voice sounded wrong, slow and disoriented.

He  the street and walked down inside the parking garage, placed the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he grabbed his car keys, "Yes, of course, I'm on my way."

_So much for not getting involved._


	12. Chapter 12

**[Wednesday 16:32 p.m 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Louis took a deep breath before giving the door a short knock. The sound of Harry's voice had made him worried, what had he been doing? Why did he need help? But when Harry opened the door, still fully dressed, cheeks rosy, with no signs of what Louis had imagined finding, he could relax.

"Come in," Harry said, avoiding Louis's eyes as he moved back up the stair and inside his apartment. Louis bit his lip as he studied Harry's slow walk. He walked like a fucking zombie, "Thank you for coming, I thought I was losing my mind there for a bit," Harry said and gave out a low chuckle.

"Harry," Louis said and closed the door behind them, biting back a laugh, "Are you high?"

"No!" Harry said and took a step back, brows furrowed. Louis gave him a questioning look, and he burst out into laughter, "Yeah, okay, I'm bloody baked."

"I figured," Louis said under his breath as he hung his jacket on a hook beneath the hatrack. It wasn't just the walk and the eyes that gave him away, the apartment reeked, "Alright, I'm here, what's the emergency?"

Harry walked inside the living room and spread himself out on the sofa, resting his head on a cushion, "I'm okay for the moment, but when I called,...everything was spinning and I swear my heart was coming out of my chest. I thought I was going to have a heart attack!" he said, and then closed his eyes as an unpleasant look passed over his face, "Ah fuck, here we go again."

Louis knew that face, so without thinking he went into the kitchen, found a large glass and filled it up with cold water. Harry would need it, and that would be the only thing he would need for a while.

"Harry?" He asked as he placed the glass on the living room table, "What's worst?"

There were twitches in Harry's face before he slowly opened his eyes to look at Louis who stood bent over him, "It feels like I'm fake. Like I'm not real," he said, his voice shrill. Sweat formed on top of his upper lip, his cheeks blushing with heat and his hands shaking in his lap, "Louis!" he said, clenching his fists.

"Yes, I'm here. What can I do?" Louis sat down beside him, careful not to sit to close.

"Please, tell me I'm real," Harry's lips trembled.

"You're real, everything around you is real!" Louis said with the calmest voice he could manage, but it wasn't enough for Harry to stop shaking in fright. Louis knew too well what he was going through, but he wasn't sure he was allowed to do those things he knew would help.

"No, no," Harry shook his head, "I'm freaking out, you-you have to reassure me, please," he opened his eyes and looked at Louis with pleading, desperate eyes.

Louis inhaled a lung full of air, he needed to help him. He swallowed, looking down at Harry's hands in his lap. He had to.

"Okay, I'll do my best," Louis said as he exhaled a deep breath and turned around on the sofa so he faced Harry completely. Before he continued, he reached out his hands and grabbed Harry shaking ones from his lap, placed them inside of his own and held them tightly. God, they were soft, he thought but shook it away. No time for distractions.

"Harry," He said calmly, "I want you to focus on the pressure of my hands on yours, okay?" he said and hugged Harry's hands harder. They were a lot bigger than Louis', but somehow they fit perfectly inside his embrace.

"Okay," Harry whispered.

"I know it feels like you're losing control, and I know it's scary, but try focus on my hands. They're the proof that you're real, that you're here," Louis said and watched as Harry's breathing slowed down. The worst was over for now, but it would definitely come back.

"Are you feeling better?" Louis asked after a few minutes, still with Harry's hands tightly held in his.

"I think it's going down for now," Harry said and opened his eyes, "Thank you," he smiled at Louis who got very aware of the fact that he was still holding onto his hands as Harry's eyes met with his.

"No problem," Louis said, and let go of Harry's hands before he would feel the sweat coming out from them, "Drink some water," he pointed at the table, "I'm sorry to say this, but it will come back."

"Fuck, I know," Harry sighed and took the glass to his mouth.

"You smoked too much, newbie," Louis teased him and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't you think I know that?" He turned to look at Louis who hid his laughter behind his hand, "Hey, don't laugh at me. It's bloody awful!"

"I know, I'm sorry," Louis gave him an apologetic look, "I'm here to help, not to mock."

Harry looked at him, his eyelids heavy as he smiled, "I'm glad you came."

**[Wednesday 19:45 p.m 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

Three long naps and five glass of water later, the room had finally stopped spinning as Harry opened his eyes. It had gone dark outside, the only light in the room coming from the TV. Harry rose his head from the cushion, a yawn left his lips.

"Oh, hey, you're awake," a soft voice spoke and he looked to his right. Oh right, Louis. Had he been here all this time? "I turned on the tv, hope that's alright."

Harry rolled his neck, "Yes, of course," he straightened himself and grabbed his glass from the table, "I'm sorry I'm such a lousy company."

"Hey, don't mention it," Louis said, looking at the TV, but then he turned to look at him, "Are you feeling any better?"

Harry inhaled, "Much better. The room isn't spinning and your voice sounds normal," he said, resting his chin in his hand.

"How did I sound before?" Louis said, laughing.

"It's hard to explain, but, like if we were inside of an aquarium and you were miles away, but also like an old music box from a horror movie, I-" he stuttered, and realised Louis was giving him a grin, "Forget it."

"I'm sorry!" Louis said, giving him an apologetic pout, "I won't laugh, I promise. It's an awful feeling, I know."

Harry nodded, and let his eyes wander to the tv-screen, where Monica Geller was busy fluffing her cushions. It had been awful, the feeling of not existing, just the thought of it made him nauseous. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if Louis hadn't shown up. His presence had really helped him, it was as if he had known the exact right words to say. A short memory of Louis' hands around his flashed by, and he glanced over at him. What was it with this man that made him feel so,...safe?

"Hey," Louis said after a while, averting his gaze from the TV, "What happened today?"

Harry's eyes met his before he turned away, he didn't know if he was ready to talk about it. He wasn't sure he even knew himself.

His shoulder tensed, "Sometimes..., I get overwhelmed," he said, looking down at his fingers, "And when I get like that, it's impossible to do anything. How am I supposed to act when my own mind is going round and round and round," he spun his hands around his head, and Louis followed his movements with steady eyes.

Louis opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, "If you sorted your own mind out, do you think that would make you able to act again?"

Harry sighed, "I want nothing more than that," he turned to look at Louis who was already looking at him with those soft blue eyes that Harry had already without realising associated with safety. '

"I-" Louis began but got interrupted when the phone on the table gave out a buzzing sound, he looked at it and Harry noticed the crease that appeared between his brows, "I'm so sorry," Louis turned to Harry, "I have to take that."

"Of course," Harry nodded and watched as Louis picked up the phone and walked out into the hallway. He turned to the TV, did his best not to let his attention turn to Louis low mumble in the hallway, but he failed.

" _Danielle, I'm sorry,_ " he sensed the tension in Louis' voice, " _I've been at work all day and,...Yeah, I know, I know,_ " pause, " _No, you don't have to worry. Nothing happened, nothing at all, and that's a promise,_ " he heard the fast pacing of Louis' feet as he moved around the narrow space, " _It won't happen again, okay? Ever. What?!_ " he raised his voice, " _Tell me you didn't call Lottie, she has enough on her plate as it is,"_ pause, " _Okay, good, good. Yes, I will. Okay, call you tomorrow,_ " another short pause, " _Love you too._ "

When Louis returned, Harry sat with his eyes steady on the tv-screen, not showing any sign of that the had just been eavesdropping his very private phone call, "Sorry 'bout that," Louis mumbled as he sat down. Harry just shook his head, still with his eyes on the tv.

"Shall we order some food?" He said, his stomach aching.

"Would love that! A big munching pizza?" Louis said, smirking.

Harry gave out a long grunt in agreement and left the sofa to grab the meny from the local pizza place from the fridge. As he stepped inside the kitchen he couldn't get rid of the nagging thought of the name  _Danielle_ , and he couldn't for his life understand why.   


	13. Chapter 13

**[Thursday, 00:34 a.m 42b Dulwich Road, Herne Hill., Brixton]**

"Harry?" a voice called from a distance, "You've stolen my weed again, haven't you? The smell is all over the apartment, fuck,..." the voice muttered as he kicked off his shoes. Harry opened one eye, trying to locate the voice. What day was it? Where was he? "Harry?" the voice asked again as he saw Zayn step inside the living room, "Oh," he let out as his eyes fell on the sofa.

Next to Harry laid a short figure, his head turned towards the doorway, and his legs nestled up against Harry's long ones. Harry saw the confusion in Zayn's eyes as he realised it was Louis who laid there on his couch.

"What time is it?" Harry said in a croaking voice, lifting his head from the armrest.

Zayn's eyes moved from Louis to Harry, "Ehm," he said and eyed his phone, "half past midnight. Wha- how did this-," pointing towards Louis who was still asleep, a crease on his forehead, "Why is he here?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Don't sound like that."

"Like what? I'm not sounding like anything," Zayn said, crossing his arms.

"Whatever," Harry sighed as he sat up, afraid to move his legs that partly laid underneath Louis', "Weren't you supposed to spend the night at Gigi's?"

Zayn pulled a face, "Well, you know," he said with a shrug, and Harry did know. They had ended up fighting, again, "Did he spend the night- yesterday?" Zayn gave Harry an askance look.

"What?" Harry said after another jawn, "No, no! He left early," he stopped before he told Zayn about Tom. He felt certain he wouldn't exactly approve.

"Alright," Zayn said, pursing his lips, "Well, I better not disturb," he pointed between Harry and Louis who was now moving around on the couch. Harry rolled his eyes when Zayn turned his back on him and slamming the door to the toilet unnecessarily hard. He didn't get why he had to act like this, so disapproval about everything Harry did.

Louis' head darted up as the door slam shut, "Wha-? Oh, hi," he said, his eyes darting around the room before landing on Harry who was now sitting straight up, "I don't even remember falling asleep, first there was pizza and then there was Spielberg and dinosaurs and then,...It's a comfortable couch!"

Harry smiled, "You fell asleep somewhere around the T-rex eating Donald Gennaro," and he had looked adorable Harry added in thought.

"Did I snore?" Louis said, wrinkling his nose.

Harry smirked, "No."

"I'm sure that's a lie," Louis answered, and turned his head in confusion when he heard flushing from the toilet, followed by water running from the shower, "Oh, is Zayn here?"

"Apparently," Harry said, pulling a face, "He wasn't supposed to come home."

If he wasn't mistaken, Louis seemed uneasy, his jaw tightened and he rose quickly from his sleeping position, "Perhaps it's best if I leave,"

Harry wasn't sure if it was meant as a question or not, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to tell him, No, stay, "Yeah, probably. Zayn seemed to be in a bad mood, due to you know," he mouthed, "the b-i-t-c-h."

A short snort left Louis before he looked around for his things. Harry watched in silence as he grabbed his phone and sweater, "Have you seen my wallet?" Louis asked, moving his eyes across the room, "Oh, there it is," he exclaimed and reached down towards Harry, who gulped as Louis arm and upper body brushed against his shoulder. Louis collar gave out a scent of cigarette smoke together with something round and sweet, and as Harry inhaled the scent he leaned an inch closer, the shoulder on his skin pressing closer towards Louis as Louis grabbed his wallet from behind Harry. Louis' arm froze for a second and Harry sensed his eyes on him.

His cheeks flushed with heat when Louis finally moved away. His scent had devoured him completely. Why had he done that? Leaned towards him like that? Harry scolded himself. So fucking embarrassing.

Louis' voice was hoarse when he stood back up, his wallet held tight in his hand, "Well, I'll be on my way."

Harry thought the impulse to hide his face in his hands, "Yeah," he managed to say as he followed Louis to the hallway. He watched as he put on his shoes with speed, and as he searched for his jacket with shaky hands. He couldn't wait to get out of here, Harry thought and clenched his fist behind his back. Such an embarrassment.

Louis grabbed the doorknob, hesitated and then turned to look at Harry who leaned against the doorframe, "Don't give up, Harry. Not yet, okay? You've got plenty of more to give."

Something with Louis words made his heart jump, "Thank you, for today. I really needed it."

Louis gave him a short nod before closing the door behind him. Harry gave out a grunt and looked up to the ceiling. Alone, again, great. He sighed and walked into the kitchen, eyed the leftovers from the pizza before filling up a glass of water.

"So, why was he here?" Zayn said as he joined Harry in the kitchen, his hair dripping of water and a towel loosely hung around his waist.

Harry swallowed the last of the water, "Perhaps, because he's becoming my friend?"

"Your friend?" Zayn said and sat down by the table.

"You don't approve?" Harry eyed him before turning on the tap again.

Zayn dragged a hand through his hair, water droplets running down his chest, "I think it's great that you feel well enough to get to know new people, but that doesn't explain why he's snuggled up on my couch in the middle of the night."

Harry looked at him through the kitchen window, eyes big, "Oh my, he wasn't snuggled up on our couch, yeah, I live here too if you didn't remember. If you have to know details, I called him after smoking too much, you know how I get,-"

"Better than anyone, yeah." Zayn chimed in, causing Harry to squint his eyes.

"Either Way, he came here, we watched TV, we ate pizza, we fell asleep watching a movie. Big fucking deal," he said and turned around.

Zayn tapped his finger on the table, looking back and forth between Harry and his hand.

"Oh my god, are you jealous I called him instead of you?" Harry burst out after seconds of silence from Zayn, who had a sullen look on his face.

"What?" he snapped his head back up, "No, I'm not a fucking child. I get it, you like him, we all do, he's a good bloke. I'm just concerned this will turn out to be another Mitch-situation,..."

Harry gasped, "How? How would this ever turn into another M-, situation? This is something completely different. I've hung out with the man three times, three times, Zayn."

Zayn gave out a snort, "I see the way you look at him-," Harry opened his mouth to protest but Zayn cut him off, "And I'm not saying you aren't allowed to hang out with him or anything, I just want you to be careful. He works with us, and it's a bad idea to shit where you eat. Remember how difficult it was, and still is, with Sarah and everything after,-"

"I wasn't planning on seducing Louis if that's what you think," Harry said, crossing his tightened arms, "I don't fuck everything that moves, you know. Even if that's how you seem to see me."

"I didn't,...ah, fuck," Zayn grunted, "I just want you to be careful because sometimes it doesn't matter what you've planned for or not. Sometimes that sort of thing just happens by itself."

"What are you on about?" Harry said with a furrow.

Zayn sighed and rose, "Just be careful, I don't want you to get stuck in a situation that in the end will hurt you," he said, softer now but Harry didn't buy it.

"Whatever, I'll go to sleep," he said, passing by Zayn and slammed his door. He didn't need anyone babying him.


	14. Chapter 14

146 days until the premiere

[ **Thursday, 07:34 p.m Notting Hill, Louis Apartment** ]

He hadn't slept. How could he with all those feelings tumbling around in his stomach like a windmill? Confusion. Guilt. Desire,...He slammed the bathroom mirror door shut, sighed as he looked himself in the eye. He looked miserable, like a fucking trainwreck and without a single drop of alcohol to get him there. That's what it does to you he guessed bitterly, the sense of concern, being the good guy, lying awake with a hard-on for three damn hours. He should've taken care of that when he had the chance he realised as he buttoned his jeans, it would be a day full of frustration now.

[ **07.58 a.m. Jermyn Street Theatre** ]

He arrived at work right on time. Always right on time. That was one of the things he wanted people to notice about him, he was someone you could count on, someone who took responsibility. He hung off his things in the loge, noticed he was the third to arrive. His eyes travelled over the empty spot where Harry's coat usually hung before walking over to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. As he entered, Camille and Nick greeted him with warm smiles before turning back to each other, taking no notice of him.

"What am I supposed to do? I'm pissed at him, but seeing him like that yesterday,...should I talk to him?" Camille said, her hands clutching onto a reeking cup of tea.

Nick leaned backwards in the couch, "I don't know, love. Harry is,...Harry. It's not the first time he's been like this and he always comes back."

Louis grabbed the coffee pot but slowed down his motions at the mention of Harry. 

Camille sighed and placed her cup on the table, "But what if he doesn't this time? What if he,...Sure, I'm pissed at him, but when am I NOT pissed at him?"

He grabbed a mug and poured the coffee with ease.

  
"Fair point," Nick agreed.

Camille continued and Louis could hear her frustration without even looking at her, "Yeah, and somehow I can't help to think it's my fault he freaked out yesterday!"

"No! It's not your fault, at all. Harry's a grown person, he can stand for his own actions. Okay?" Nick said with a firm voice, "It's not your fault. You can't go around taking responsibility for other people's actions, that's not healthy. You have a valid reason to be pissed at him, okay?"

Louis realised what he was doing, he was snooping around in something he had no part in, but somehow he couldn't make himself leave the room. So he opened the fridge, grabbed the butter and a half-eaten cucumber, placed them on the zink as he took a slice of bread from the basket on the counter.

"Yes, I know, you're right, but it bugs me. I don't want him to hurt?" Camille said, concerned.

"None of us does," Nick agreed in a soft voice, "We all want him to be happy; his normal glittering self, but lately, I don't know. He's struggling."

Louis swallowed, scooping up butter on a knife.

"I don't want him to struggle,...Should I go to see him maybe?" Louis glanced at Camille, who was now dragging her hand through her hair.

"That's up to you, Cam. But if you ask for my opinion, I think no. You have enough of your own problems, you don't have to take on his as well," Nick leaned forward again, "You've been looking out for him for such a long time now and what have he given you in return? Good dick now and then, and what else?"

Camille snorted, "I guess you're right."

"I'm sorry to say this, but he's no good for you, at least not now."

"Ugh, why do you always have to say the things I don't want to hear?" Camille whimpered, slurping on her tea.

"Somebody got to talk some sense into you, I happen to be that someone."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you. So,... should I call him then?" She asked as Louis grabbed a cutting board for the cucumber.

Nick gave out a sigh, "Text him if you really feel the need to. Do not call."

"Okay, text is good. No call, thank you, Nicky," she said and rose, gave Nick a peck on the cheek before walking out, "See you in there, Louis."

"Yeah, I'll be in in a second!" Louis smiled at her as he placed three slices of cucumbers on his sandwich.

"That's a depressing sandwich, mate," Nick said with a laugh.

Louis turned to him, taking the seat Camille just left, "Yeah, maybe. Better than nothing tho?" he said and took a bite. Nick was right, it was a really depressing sandwich, "So, Harry and Camille, huh?" The words flew out of him before he could stop them.

Nick looked up from behind his cup, "Ugh, yeah. A never-ending story."

Louis sensed the long growing disinterest, "So, are they like- a couple?" He asked, sipping his coffee.

"A couple?" Nick said and snorted, "No, I wouldn't say so. Harry's nowhere near ready for any sort of relationship. They're like, a thing, but a small thing."

Louis gulped, "I see."

"Any reason for you asking?" Nick rose a brow, smirking.

Louis shook his head, "No, it's just something I've picked up on. The tension. Camille could barely look at Harry at rehearsals yesterday."

"It tends to get like that," Nick sighed, "I love Harry, I really do, but he can be a complete dickhead sometimes."

Louis frowned, "Oh?"

"I mean,...he often does it without the intention of being a dick, but nonetheless, he's a dick. God, I should stop saying dick now I think," he mumbled down into his cup, "He's a great lad, just-, burdened."

"Has any of you talked with him since what happened yesterday?" Louis asked, still frowning, his shoulders tense.

"Zayn, I guess," Nick said, emptying the last of his coffee, "Zayn's really the only one he ever talks to about that stuff."

"That stuff?" Louis asked, following Nick with his gaze as he walked over to the counter.

Nick placed the cup in the sink, turned to Louis, "You know, the 'I'm chaotic, I can't deal with life, I'm dying'-stuff," he said and pinned his lips together, "Would you look at that, I've let my mouth ran again, oops. See you later, going upstairs to rehearse scene ten."

As Nick left the kitchen, Louis leaned deeper back in the couch. How was it everybody seemed to think Harry was this complete ass-hole when all he could see was someone longing for understanding? Longing for someone who dared to see him for who he was. Was he wrong? He didn't know and it was certainly not something he would find the answer to inside of a shabby theatre kitchen at 08.13 on a Thursday. With a grunt, he rose to join the cast in the auditorium.

[ **Thursday, 15.00 p.m Jermyn Street Theatre, Jeffreys Office]**

Louis tapped his pencil against the notes in his lap as the door opened, Zayn's lean figure making its way inside, "You wanted to see me?" He looked to Jeff behind the desk, and then at Louis, "Oh, both of you I guess."

"Take a seat," Jeff said, smiling. Louis swallowed, not smiling.

Zayn sat down in the wooden chair in front of them, a crease on his forehead, "What's this about?"

As if he didn't know, Louis thought, crossing his legs.

Jeff cleared his throat as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "It's about Harry and Dorian."

Zayn eyes widened, "Alright," his eyes darted from Jeff to Louis and back to Jeff, "What about it?"

"We've decided-" Jeff sneaked a glance towards Louis who stared down at his notes, "to let you rehearse his lines alongside Lord Henry. You think you can manage that?"

Zayn's eyes narrowed, "Wait,...you want me to take Dorian?" he made a squirm in his seat, "I don't know, Jeff, it feels kinda weird."

Jeff nodded and pinned his lips, "I know, I get it, but I want you to think of what's best for the whole production, not just what's best for Harry in terms of being your best friend. We need you as a backup. What if he doesn't come back this time?"

There was a twitch in Zayn's face, "He,...he always comes back, you know that, Jeff."

"What if he doesn't this time?" Jeff said, flexing his arms over the desk, "What if I don't let him?"

Both Zayn and Louis winced, "Wha-?" Louis began but stopped as Jeff gave him a side eye.

"You wouldn't let him come back?" Zayn said, "Why? He's your star."

Jeff gave out a long breath, "And what does that matter if he can't do his job properly?" before Zayn could answer, he put a hand up, "I'm simply doing what's best for the cast, for me, and for you."

Louis clenched his jaw. Jeff knew what he was doing, and it was a dirty game he played. He looked to Zayn who sat with his hand over his mouth, puzzlement draped his eyes, "Zayn, you don't have to decide this right now," he skimmed in, ignoring the dark look from Jeff.

Zayn met his eyes, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, it's a lot to think about. It's a lot to ask of me, Jeff. You know that right?"

"Of course I do, I wish I wouldn't have to put you in this position, but you're my last hope."

"Don't pressure him like that," Louis argued, knowing full well he wasn't supposed to.

"No, it's fine. I get it. It makes sense," Zayn said looking at Louis, "But can I at least get a day to think about it?" he turned to Jeff.

"By all means," Jeff said, looking down at his papers, "Think about it until tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Zayn said with a short nod, "May I leave? I really need a smoke."

Jeff pointed him towards the door, "See you tomorrow, oh, and Zayn?" he added as Zayn was halfway out the door.

"Yes?"

"Don't say a word about this to Harry, okay?"

"Not a word," Zayn mumbled before disappearing out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Jeff turned towards Louis, "I thought I was being clear when I said you wouldn't let your dispraise show? It's important we get Zayn to agree to this. We need a backup."

"Honestly Jeff, I get it," Louis turned to meet his eye, "But I don't get why you have to pin two close friends against each other. That's how you destroy friendships in this business, and I'm not here for that. If we're quite finished, I really need a smoke as well," he said and rose, grabbed his sweater from the chair and left the room without hearing another word from behind the desk. 

[Thursday, 15.22 p.m Jermyn Street Theatre, Backyard]

"I reckon this wasn't your idea?" Zayn said as Louis lightened his cigarette, flicking the one in his hand so the glowing ash fell to the ground.

"I don't see the point in lying," Louis gave him a crooked smirked, "So no, this wasn't my idea."

Zayn sighed, looking up at the grey sky, "Will you see me like an idiot if I accept?"

Louis inhaled, "No," Zayn looked at him with mistrust, "Hey, how long have I've worked here? Two weeks?"

"More like one,..." Zayn murmured and Louis gave out a laugh.

"Right, and who am I to be judging your work after a week?" Louis said, watching as Zayn squinted his eyes, "I get it, you think I'm judging you for even considering 'taking over' Dorian. I promise you, I'm not. Hey, I mean it," he added when Zayn gave out a sigh, "It's a tricky situation, and Jeff knows you best. My, not so discreet dislike," he whispered, "Is coming from a place where I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Hey man, I get that, I salute you for it. But you don't know Harry as we know Harry," Zayn said, tossing his cigarette inside of an ashtray, "I know how you're feeling right now, how you want to protect him from all the bad things in the world, he has that effect on people," he turned to face Louis, "I've been there, we've all been there. But you can't save anyone that doesn't want saving. It consumes you and at one point, you've had enough. So don't come moralising over me if I accept Jeff's offer, I've tried saving him for years, and it's never enough."

Louis gulped as Zayn shut the door behind him. He dragged a deep puff of the cigarette, his lungs growing tight by the heat. He had seen the sadness inside of Harry's eyes, the obscure feeling of being completely alone when surrounded by so many. Had anyone really tried saving him, for real? Zayn's words ringing in his head, it consumes you. Eight days, eight fucking days was all it took for him to toss sanity out the window. He should stay away from him, at least three people alone had shown him that just in one day, but,...He tossed the cigarette inside the ashtray where Zayn's cigarette laid still reeking.

He grabbed his phone, searched his contacts and moved it to his ear. Four signals, "Hi, are you busy? Want to go for a cup of tea? I know this awesome place where they also serve delicious vegan pancakes."


	15. Chapter 15

**[16.05 p.m, Farm Girl Cafe, Notting Hill]**

"Vegan, huh?" Harry eyed the menu board above the counter, pouting as he read today's specials.

"I try," Louis said with a shrug, and Harry eyed him quickly, a smile threatening to break out on his lips.

"Have you decided?" He asked, preparing himself to order. Going over the word avocado-sandwich and ginger tea five times in his head, but still, he felt the sweat breaking out over his back.

"I told you, they've got delicious pancakes," Louis winked and stepped forward in line, "What do you want? I can order for both of us if you grab a table. Upstairs?" He pointed to the loft right above the pay desk.

Harry sighed in relief, "An avocado-sandwich, and ginger tea, no milk, no sugar."

"What kind of brit are you?" Louis joked as he stepped up to the waitress. Harry chuckled as he made his way up the stairs to grab a table. As he hung off his coat he gazed down at Louis. He hadn't expected him to call, not after his embarrassing freak out yesterday, but he did.

He sat down, plucking a strand of hair away from his light beige shirt as Louis got up to the table, "Ginger tea for you, no milk, no sugar," He said, beaming as he placed the cup in front of Harry.

"Thank you," Harry smiled as he looked down at the table, warmth spreading over his cheeks.

"I got to say," Louis said as he sat down, his t-shirt slipping a little to the side, exposing his collarbone, "I'm disappointed you didn't order the pancakes."

Harry's eyes darted up to Louis' face, swallowing hard, "What? Oh, yeah, I'm not a big fan of pancakes. Is that weird?"

Louis widened his eyes, gaping, "Not a fan of pancakes? But a fan of avocado sandwiches? Alright, I'm not going to let this be a problem, but it is a problem."

"Hey, what's wrong with avocado?" Harry said with a deep frown, "They taste good, they're healthy, and they're green?"

"They're like, the trendiest food of all time," Louis said, throwing his head back, "They're in bloody everything! Salads, smoothies, can't even order a chocolate cake without there being avocado in it. They do piss me off- avocados."

"You're an aspiring vegan, but doesn't like avocados?" Harry argued, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis rolled his eyes, "I'm confident I can manage a vegan lifestyle without the devil's baby food. Because that's what it looks like," he said, clapping his hands against his thighs, right as the waiter came with their orders.

Harry looked down at his plate, "Devil's baby food,..." he whispered, eyeing the green mush covering two slices of toasted bread, "Thank you, Tomlinson, you've destroyed the joy of avocados for me."

Louis laughed as he grabbed a fork, "I'm sure it's very tasty," he said before thanking the waiter who smiled their way.

"What are you drinking?" Harry asked, leaning over the table to get a better look inside of Louis mug.

"A soy-latte, very tasty. Wanna try it?" He said, giving Harry the mug, who eyed it with surprise before carefully taking the mug to his lips.

"Mmm, good!" He said and nodded in approval, giving the mug back to Louis who stretched his hand out, "I would offer you a bite of my sandwich in return, but since you're basically the avocado-grinch,..."

Louis chuckled as he took another bite of his pancake, "You're never gonna let this go now, are you?"

"Nope," Harry said, shoving a large piece of avocado in his mouth, his eyes darting between his plate and Louis still visible collarbone as they ate in silence.

"Did you manage to sleep after I left?" Louis said after a while, sipping on his latte, his hand barely reaching around the mug.

Harry looked up from his plate, met Louis' eyes and then looked down again, "Mhm," he nodded.

"You're a bad liar," Louis stated, shrugging his shoulders as he laid down his fork, looking at Harry with soft eyes, "If it helps, I didn't sleep well either."

Unsure, "What kept you up then?" Harry asked, fiddling with his teaspoon.

He saw Louis hesitate, "Oh, you know, just good old sleeping problems. Been having those for years," he said, shrugging, "What about you? The world kept on spinning inside of an aquarium?"

A short laugh left Harry's mouth, "Sod off, I'm never doing weed again, that's for sure. But no, the world kept a normal pace, just had a lot on my mind,..."

"Yeah?" Louis said and tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Harry's face, "The offer still stands you know," he said, lowering his voice.

Harry frowned, "Wha-."

"If you need someone to talk too," he said and Harry met his warm gaze over the table, "I'm quite a good listener if I'm allowed to say so myself," he added and grabbed his mug.

Louis was making it hard for him not to blurt it all out, those blue eyes that filled him with trust. He wanted to let go, spill all the heart ripping thoughts, all the pain. He stared down at the table, his hand shaking in his lap, cheeks burning, "I-, I'm not used to-," the words got stuck in his throat, piled up, "I- goddammit, how hard can it be?" Harry gave out a bitter laugh.

"Hey," Louis reached his hand over the table, but before his thumb reached Harry's he pulled back, "I don't mean to stress you or anything, it's just that I've been getting these-, oh fuck!" he cried out as his hand hit his coffee mug, that tilted over, coffee pouring with speed over the table and down on Harry's pants, "Oh my god," Louis gasped, his northern accent stronger than Harry had ever heard it before.

Louis ducked under the table to eye the damage as Harry sat frozen in shock, "Are those,...?" He stared at Harry's creme white trousers, now covered in brown coffee stains.

"Yes, those are Gucci," Harry said in between clenched lips, "And yes, I saved up for them for three months."

Louis gasped, leaning over the table to grab a handful of napkins, "You're shitting me!" he shook his head, voice shrill, "Tell me you're making this up! Fucking hell," he said, shoving the napkins over Harry who bit back a laugh.

"It's completely true, I'm afraid. But you look so adorable panicking like this that I might let this one go," Harry said, nipping at his bottom lip.

"What are you doing? Don't just sit there. Save them!" Louis yelped, shoving another bunch of napkins over the table, "Oh-," he said, his cheeks turning light pink as Harry's words reached him beyond his panic, "Well, I should probably go throw these away," he said grabbing the pile of napkins, "Anything else you want me to destroy while am at it?" He asked as he moved away from the table.

Harry followed him with his eyes as he walked down the stairs, "Oh I can think of one thing,..." he said, under his breath, blushing as he sensed the warmth in his stomach. 


End file.
